


Alchemists of Time

by Fictio



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Armie is married but only for a chapter or two lol, Boys In Love, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Family Fluff, Fluff, Found Families, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, romance over the years
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24229567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictio/pseuds/Fictio
Summary: Marc Chalamet is Armie's mentor and the only father figure he ever had in his life. The Chalamets adopted him as his own over the years. He fits in perfectly — if not for a small detail, the son, Tim Chalamet who has always made him uneasy and off-footed.[Indefinite Hiatus]
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 129
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! I am starting another WIP but here's the twist – I have a plot🤓  
> Some pointers — Armie and Timmy have the same age difference as in real life.  
> Armie works for the UN. And he was married to Liz for a brief period of time.  
> The story spans over the years as they age and their relationship changes.  
> Found family troop!
> 
> **You can expect an update on Sundays.  
> ** the title is from a line from one of my favorite fics — Impromptu

_ Winter 2017 _

The difference in the awareness of the eyes gave it away. It kind of hurt, just slightly like a safety pin constantly stuck on your side. It shouldn't shock Armie but it does. Marc's son, Timmy went from an annoying teenager to a faithful admirer to now, an indifferent guest on his table. He liked both sides of Timmy — the eye rolls, the baggy pants, the rap persona; the wide-eyed admiration, the open mouth wonder, the silent reverence. 

The Chalamet family has been invited to his home and this is really an exceptional evening – Armie has never done this before. Always the guest on their dinner table. Always the usurper in their lives. He allows himself another glance at Timmy's hunched figure – bored and scrolling down his phone – and starts serving the wine. Liz is somewhere behind him, checking in on the desert. The occasion of the dinner was to celebrate their newly renovated house and their marriage. It's been a year since they've been married.

Pauline is not here. Somewhere in Paris, directing her short film. She couldn't attend the wedding too – schedules and all do matter in the business. He's not disappointed. Really. He knows everyone has to grow up and fall apart – it's the way of life. He can't stay suspended at the point of time where it felt like he was a part of a small loving family. It's unfair to have expectations from the Chalamets, they are not even his family. 

He has to get out of his head. He's definitely making it awkward for everyone.

"Let me help you with that." Timmy rises from his seat, probably because Nicole nudged him along. Takes hold of Armie's forearm. 

"Oh, no. Please sit down. I'll serve it." He hates the formality dripping down his voice. But he can't help himself. Feels like a guest in his own home.

"Armie, please let me do it or mom is going to keep nudging me in the back. I swear I will have bruises in the morning." Timmy whispers in his shoulder.

"Okay." And he had forgotten how tactile Timmy has always been. How the whole Chalamet clan is kind and loving. Even if he doesn't know his place in their lives, they would treat him with the utmost kindness. He shouldn't have expected any less from Timmy.

Timmy gives a hearty squeeze on his shoulder and starts serving the wine. Marc asks him about the new conference he's supposed to organize, the paper he and his team is translating for the conference. He praises Armie – for his work and his ambition to learn new languages. Gives him some advice to change his field of work from Public information and conference management to Legals. It's not an impossible task but it's certainly difficult to transition to a different playing ground when most of your life, you've worked with languages and papers, making sure the information you put out there is correct and coherent, the conferences you organize up to UN's standards. Doing a Postgraduate in law may help but Armie needs all the help he can get in the network of the UN itself.

"You guys are so boring with your career talks. If Armie wants advice, he can ask you on the phone dad."

And yes, he's missed Timmy. Their banter, the light, harmless teasing. He's so fucking glad to be back in Timmy's good grace.

"Tone it down, Timmy." Nicole hisses and Armie wonders if they're behaving a little distant because of Liz. They're the most welcoming family he's ever met so it's weird that they haven't adjusted to Liz. 

But it's unfair to say that. He knows how Liz is. She strikes as the most friendly person ever but has a tendency to appear inaccessible. She doesn't really allow people in. Is definitely not the most sincere person ever. She enters the dining room with the starters, playing the best host, the dutiful wife. Everyone smiles uncomfortably.

He kind of hates it.

They start eating and conversing but there's awkwardness in the air. Stilted half conversations. Not much eye contact. Marc not having anything to say to Liz while Nicole overdoes it, overcompensates. Timmy is sitting in the corner of the table, again busy with his phone. Not even trying to look interested. He resembles a bored teenager whose parents dragged him to a friend's house and he can't and won't play along with his parents' wishes to act politely.

Armie hates it. So fucking much.

Maybe it was a bad idea to invite them.

He feels desperate when he shifts the conversation to Timmy, to his success.

"I loved  _ Call me by your name _ ."

"You watched it?" Timmy seems surprised at his admission. Definitely embarrassed and bashful.

"Yeah. It was…" he wants to make a joke of it all, wants to say how the little man has grown up, how weird it was to watch him as this moody, horny teenager but what comes out of his mouth is incredibly sincere, "beautiful. I loved it. I am so proud of you."

Timmy turns a gorgeous shade of red. And Armie has known him since he was a mere teenager, a bratty seventeen-year-old and he knows that Timmy doesn't blush easily.

He can feel Liz's stare at him but he refuses to back down. He loves the Chalamets, has loved them before her, has loved them as their own, more than his own and he will always continue to do so. He wants to shower them with affection anytime he finds the chance.

Timmy clears his throat, "Thanks."

He hopes he hasn't crossed any lines. Hasn't made it more awkward than it already is. But then Marc is smiling his usual crooked charming smile and everything seems alright. A little better than before. 

Armie wishes this is the start of a new tradition — the Chalamets at his dinner table, in his home like a family eating together. Liz and him going over and meeting Marc and Nicole. Them hanging out with Pauline and Timmy. Meeting up for holidays like years ago when he wasn't with Liz.

He can't wait for the future. He's sure this awkward start is just a fluke. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ha some issues with the publication date so I am posting again😅

_ Winter 2017 _

She's cleaning the plates in the dishwasher. Armie tries to take over but Liz shoos him away. 

"I like to wash the dishes. Keeps me focused instead of overthinking."

They have always been the same. They both liked routine. Were animals of habit. Loved household traditions and practiced domesticity. They are always in sync but sometimes — no, most of the time, he doesn't understand what Liz is thinking about.

"You could have been a little more friendly with the Chalamets." He needs to voice this out. Marc and his family, and Liz are both important parts of his life. It shouldn't be this difficult for the two of them to get along with each other. He hears the bang of pots and stops in his track.

"I just...Armie, they are so different than me."

"Different?" He is so confused with his sudden outburst of emotions, "Liz, you own a bakery and you've never had a problem with mingling with all sorts of people."

"You know that's not true. And it's not that simple. You can't just force a family on me and expect me to act like it's normal."

"I am not forcing anything on you. It was just dinner!"

"Please. As if you don't have any expectations from me to play family with the Chalamets when you don't give a flying fuck about my family."

"Is this a grudge you're holding against me? Because I don't get along with your father and your brother? You have to fucking know my viewpoint of things varies a lot from them." He tries to control the anger in his voice. Hopes this isn't tit-for-tat. Hopes Liz hasn't stooped so low.

"Of course, I am not doing this because of your choice to separate yourself from my family. But I have to fucking admit Armie that it hurts. And about the Chalamets, they just feel so out of the league for me. I mean have you seen them? Multilingual, broadminded, and so fucking elegant. Like they have everything figured out...its...its jarring. In the beginning, I tried to play nice but I could feel their eyes on me, they were wondering why you married me."

"Woah! That's a huge fucking statement you are making."

"And it's true Armie! They were wondering. And are still wondering why we are together! I like to think of myself as a businesswomen and I do try to fit in wherever I am supposed to be, whoever I am supposed to be with. But God, this image of the perfect family and perfect people intimidates the fuck out of me."

"Liz. Baby, I am sorry. I never thought you felt that way." He understands what she's saying but he can't empathize. Can't put himself in her shoes. But he loves his wife and he will do whatever to make her feel easier.

–––––

_ Spring 2018 _

He is nursing his drink, all alone, glancing around at the people having fun. It's a cliche. He's a big fucking cliche, drinking his sorrows and his failure away. His pitiful state was not to be witnessed by anyone. Armie came all the way to Brooklyn to break down. His tipsy mind mumbles how that could be a good lyric to a pop song. Better than the one playing in the bar.

Another look at his ring, another shot down his throat. There's nothing to do anymore but play with his ring. No one to talk to. The bartender in the movies is always there to listen to the drunkard's trouble, to get some hefty tip just for playing ear. But the one at this bar is too busy flirting with one of the customers. An innovative way of collecting tips or something more.

Armie doesn't bother looking at the man he's flirting with. He's looked enough. He's tired as fuck. Wants to drown himself in guilt, wants the drink to drown the guilt. At this point, his mind keeps oscillating between masochism and reprieve. His eyes pierce the clear drink in his hand and he wants to swim in it. Has a sudden urge to go swimming.

"Careful with the drink."

"Timmy?"

And fuck. He's definitely not drunk enough to hallucinate. Timmy – Timothee fucking Chalamet is standing in front of him, clad in tight jeans and plaid shirt(thats probably more expensive that Armie's ring).

"Were you trying to drink from your eyes?"

"What are you doing here?" They speak at the same time.

"I just got back. Promotional tour is over. Award season is over."

Right. Timmy is an Oscar nominee now. Officially one of the youngest to be nominated in 80 or something years — Marc told him all about it. One evening when he visited the Chalamet house when he could not be bothered by Timmy's success. Too engrossed in his own mess. Seeing him now, he regrets not calling or even texting him a meaningless congrats.

"Oh. But why here?"

"I am just visiting someone."

So he's dating someone. Armie peeks behind him and sure enough, there's a girl who's keenly watching their interaction. She's pretty, blond and really young. Sometimes, he forgets how young Timmy truly is. There is a ten year age gap between them. Well, nine years but it hardly matters. In intellect and expertise, Timmy is definitely older than him. The confidence and assurance in his eyes is something that comes with age but Timmy has somehow acquired it, and made use of it. He's a perfect combination of enthusiasm and passion. Intelligence and agency. Armie faked the look in his eyes and the comfort with his body for years to appear confident. He's still faking it but he's just so used to it that it comes naturally. This practice has also gifted him the ability to detect ingenuity and sham.

His date doesn't wait for him. She rolls her eyes when Timmy doesn't come back and gets ready to leave. Ever the casanova, Armie wants to tell him — please put some effort into your relationships. Please hang onto them.

"Your date is leaving…"

"We are having a fight." He only offers this much and honestly, Armie is kind of annoyed. He's not going to be used as an excuse.

"Okay?"

"And I saw you. And I haven't seen you in a long time." There's fondness in his eyes, his voice. Armie feels another bile of guilt coming up from within.

"Oh. I...congrats on your nomination. I just did not have the time to reach out."

Armie sees the fondness dim. Maybe it was too detached, impersonal. Tim only shows it for a second.

"Thanks." The bartender comes to their and Armie is ready to signal him for another drink when Tim places a hand on his glass. Armie instantly feels embarrassed, "Why are you here? In Brooklyn?"

There's just no excuse, "I wanted to drink till dawn."

There's concern in his eyes, "Armie, are you okay?"

Questions, questions, and questions. Why is there no fucking answer for his misery?

"I am fine." He attempts a half-assed smile. Hopes they move on from him and his shitty life. 

"Can we have water please," Tim asks the bartender and Armie has to come up with an excuse to get away. He can't afford to be like this with him. Has to maintain an image of semblance in front of Marc's genius son.

"I am so sorry Tim. I am just not feeling well…" he takes a sip of the water but then Tim is speaking for themselves.

"I understand. Let's go outside, you'll need some fresh air." 

"No, no. Don't worry about me."

"It's fine, Armie. C'mon"

They slip outside and Tim grabs Armie's forearm, giving him support. Armie wants to tell him, it's okay, he's not that drunk. But he kind of likes the attention, the comfort Timmy is providing.

"I don't want to leave you alone in these streets."

"And you're gonna protect me?" Armie can't help but tease him a little.

"No, but I can make sure that you're not lying on the road, drunk out of your mind."

"I am not that drunk. Oh my God!"

"Sure, buddy. Let's walk around the block and get you normal...We can then hail a taxi back home."

"Home?"

"Yeah, My flat."

———

"I am sorry you didn't win Best Oscar."

The cool air sobers him up in no time. But Armie wants to elongate their time together.

"It's fine. It's all in the past now...and it's not like I was expecting to win."

"Why?"

"Hmm?"

"Why were you not expecting to win?"

Tim gapes at Armie. No one asks 'Why?' when he's rambling and putting himself down, "I was against the veterans. And I know I wasn't that good."

"You have to be kidding me!" Does this kid really think he's not good enough? Armie has no idea about the other competitors but Liz had made him watch Darkest Hour and although he has massive respect for Gary Oldman, Tim was definitely much better. One can only act so much with so much facial makeup, "with that amount of makeup, he could have played an alien. And I don't think that would be considered for an Oscar."

"Armie, please!" Timmy laughs his full-body, hiccupy laugh, and Armie feels proud. He hasn't made someone happy in a long, long time.

"It's true, isn't it?"

"I don't know!" He shrugs and a small smile settles on his face. He asks a moment later, "so how are your plans for Legals? Any progress?"

How can he explain to Timmy his complicated relationship with Legals? He was satisfied with his job for a long time but then again, he also wanted to do some groundwork, to get involved with actual people and places that the UN caters. He thought being a lawyer would be cool. Liz also thought that, and if it wasn't for Liz, he would have never even tried. Always thinking it was out of reach...but now, when he's halfway down the path of preparing for applying – he's not sure. A lot of the stuff he's read just makes him depressed and is too complicated for him. A lot of his classmates are people much younger than him and they have fresh and intelligent approaches to problems. He's definitely lagging behind them – with no motivation and poor performance, he's just getting more and more disinterested.

"It's fine. I mean, I am almost failing all my classes but I think I will get the degree. Not sure about the job." He seems shocked by the admission. Oh, well, he still doesn't know the gigantic fuck up of Armie's marriage. 

Timmy stays silent for a minute or so. Clearly trying to piece his thoughts together.

"I never could understand why you went for Law."

"Does Marc think that?" A second later, Armie realizes his mistake. Timmy is Marc's son but not now.

"You do talk to dad, right? No need to ask me that question." He smirks, looking ever so pleased with his clever answer. Armie feels lightheaded from the conversation. Thank God he's not drunk.

When they reach the end of the block, Armie confesses, "After watching call me by your name, I had a sudden urge to fly to Italy and have a life-changing experience."

"You did?"

"Yeah, I was planning a trip with Liz but we always go to her family's home for Christmas and Cayman islands for the new year." 

He shouldn't have said that. Don't know why he always goes back to Christmas last year. They were at Elizabeth's childhood home, with all her family. Her overbearing father and stupid brother who just happened to be extremely conservative. And annoying. Armie took some time off of family shenanigans to do his assignments. He was already having a hard time deciphering the case study, he didn't need Liz's brother and brother-in-law mocking him for doing homework like a child. 

It escalated quickly when her father got involved. Holiday season is not complete without the bullying and the gaslighting. The argument got out of hand, and honestly Armie doesn't remember in detail what really happened. He knows he should have said some things, knows he should have left some unsaid. 

What he remembers is storming out of the house, enraged and humiliated. Going to a bar and talking to some random girl, talking about everything and nothing all at once and feeling so much at ease with this random stranger than his own wife. His wife who didn't stand up to his bullies, who didn't question them(but that was unfair. They're both like that in their relationship. Never really had that support thing going on where they could be open and vulnerable. Where they would fight for the other.)

Armie didn't drink much that night. He was busy leading on a nameless girl in a nameless bar. He should have stopped it, should have kept things light but they started talking about past lovers, current lovers and then intimate things — he let loose and talked about his insecurities, the things that left him vulnerable, his ambitions and his fears. It created a false sense of security and intimacy, a thing of beauty that can be easily created with a total stranger. 

He kissed her. And she kissed him back.

He pushed her aside and left for home at 4 a.m.

"You can still go. Plan for the summer. It's more beautiful in summer."

Armie closes his eyes for a second. Letting the past and the guilt go, "Yeah. I will also visit Crema. Can't wait to see it."

"Do you want me to recommend you places?"

"I would like that."

"You should visit the Cathedral. I really like it. And the villa if it's possible. I have so many memories of that place. I sometimes dream of it."

Dream of it? Armie really wants to ask for more, "It was a personal experience for you?"

Tim stops in his tracks and eyes him. Challenge on the tip of his tongue, "You want to know?"

And honestly who is this kid? 

"I do."

"Then tell me why you were drinking to forget."

He could let it go. Laugh it off — the challenge and the tension in the air. The dangerous parallel of that night with the nameless women, the difference being that this time he has history with Timmy. However he wants to put it, there is a past, there are connections and there is want. A sizzle of want that unexpectedly hit him when he watched Timmy as Elio. He hasn't opened Pandora's box yet – the possibility of being attracted to Timmy.

"Liz and I are separated. She filed for divorce."

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for leaving comments🥰 I will get back to every single one of them.

The first time, Marc invited Armie over for dinner, Timmy and Pauline were not at home. Timmy was shooting a movie in LA and Pauline was in Paris for her university exams. She was twenty-one and Timmy only seventeen. Armie was impressed with the Chalamet children even though he hadn't met them yet. 

The second time Marc invited him over, Pauline was back at home and they got on so well that he genuinely forgot that she was some years younger than him. He was twenty-six, much older than her but there was never an issue of age in the family. Marc and Nicole allowed him to be a kid, like Pauline and Timmy without being overbearing. It was so nice that he hovered over the family, probably annoyed them with his clinginess.

Timmy hadn't made an appearance that night but he saw him. Saw him in the photos – a skinny little kid who looked like Nicole but smiled like Marc. Who was so affectionate with his parents and still wrapped up around his sister. They watched  _ Homeland _ together and Armie was truly surprised to see Timmy, Marc's son, make an appearance on the acclaimed show. He knew how difficult it was to get roles as an actor when he was Timmy's age, he had naively tried and failed. Though that part of his life he doesn't tell lest they be judgmental – especially knowing what Armie does now – that is working for the UN. Translating and interpreting languages, working with public declaration documents, and volunteering to organize meetings.

He had been flabbergasted by Timmy's acting skills on TV. And while he opened and closed his mouth like a fish, thinking the Chalamets are really the superior family, Marc and Nicole beamed at Armie's expression, proud of their son.

"He's really going to be big someday, you know." Armie nodded at Marc.

"Yeah, I know. And I don't think any of us is ready."

* * *

_ Summer 2012 _

The first time Armie meets Timmy. It doesn't go as planned. Marc's son had come back from theatre practice(and honestly who is this kid. How is he doing theatre, movies and TV shows all at the same time?) and he was sweaty and visibly annoyed. Though Armie in his excitement to meet the prodigal son, missed that little detail.

"Oh hey! Hi Timmy, it's Armie." He announces in his overly optimistic tone. Not expecting Timmy's reaction which is to look him up and down, frowning at his height and build, and then continuing to roll his eyes. 

"My name is Timothee. You can call me Tim. Not Timmy. You don't even know me yet." 

"Oh...I am sorry for…"

Timmy, no Tim, doesn't wait for Armie to apologize. He rushes off to his room for a quick shower before dinner. 

"He's just stressed. I swear he doesn't behave this way."

"It's okay, I understand."

And he does understand. Shouldn't have expected much from a teenager who has achieved so much in a short time. Shouldn't have thought that the Chalamets were perfect. No one is. He can continue to hog Marc's mentorship, Nicole's affection, and Pauline's friendship. Tim might be out of his league.

While Nicole prepares the salad, Armie starts working on the meat. He offered his services in the kitchen, felt bad for just eating and drinking while Nicole and Marc prepared the food and Pauline set the table. He had found a simple dish online and started practicing. His intention was not to impress the Chalamets but he would be so fucking happy if they liked it.

"Where is the wine, Nicole? I need it to reduce the mixture."

"Pauline! You opened the new bottle from the cellar, right? Give it to Armie." Nicole shouts from where she's hunching over the fridge, trying to find cottage cheese.

Pauline jumps from the sofa and hands him the wine bottle."Here you go." Armie pours a generous amount in the pan. Noting that the food is getting prepared for the five people. He has done his research before, wrote the recipe, and memorized it – because it would be too weird to bring a sheet of awfully marked paper in their kitchen and claim to know that he can cook.

"Smells good!" She leans over the counter and says, " _ Ich wusste nicht, dass du ein Koch bist _ ?"

_ I did not know you were a cook? _

" _ Sie sprechen Deutsch _ ?"

_ You know German? _

" _ Nur ein bisschen _ " 

_ Only a little. _

she giggles as she tastes the sauce with her finger, " I googled the word  _ Cook _ ."

Armie grins at her admission. In love with this multilingual family. At the exact moment, Timmy decides to show up – leisurely walking down the stairs, towel around his shoulder, stopping and frowning at Armie and Pauline's banter. If he did not know any better, he would think they were flirting. But Pauline already has a boyfriend so he puts it out of his mind. The stranger is there and normally Timmy would welcome him with open arms, especially if his family adored the guy so much but today...today he just can't be bothered. Wants to be left alone with his family – maybe mama can give him a tough massage, a game with Pauline would do wonders and a cuddle with dad would be awesome. 

Instead, he has to play host for Dad's mentee. 

He can't even begin to formulate his bad day as he slumps on the couch and recalls — it had started with Ansel Elgort getting the lead role of yet another movie which they both auditioned for and him getting the role of the bully. And then winded down on him basically cheating on his girlfriend with a much older woman. Tim swears he didn't mean it to happen, it's just that he's feeling so fucking confused in this relationship which feels like a farce. It's like they're dragging along a dead horse so they can pretend to be a perfect high school couple — just like Ansel and his girlfriend. 

But all his lamenting feels like excuses. He is a shitty person who cheated on his girlfriend and may even continue to do that instead of being the bigger person and confessing or breaking up.

He feels someone behind and just before the touch reaches the shoulder, he turns around – it's the giant from before. Archie or something.

"We are starting dinner." 

Tim looks at him again. Really looks. The guy has long hair – just past his ears (which is slightly red for some reason), blue eyes, soft mouth, and an even softer expression.

_ He would make a good actor. He has the classic Hollywood look. Much better than Ansel. And the soft, vulnerable expression? Mazal tov! _

Armie stares at the kid. He's tiny. He knew he was a skinny little thing from the show, but now up close, Armie has this weird thought of crushing him in a bear hug. Pretty sure Tim can easily hide behind Armie if he wants to. His bony wrists and arm are not even half of Armie's. He's literally a baby. Is he really 17? He looks fucking fourteen! Or twelve!

"Ummm...dinner?" He barely gets out.

"Yeah." 

While they walk to the dining area, Armie reminds himself – Tim is literally a kid. A teenager, he is allowed to snap at Armie whenever he sees fit. Now that he thinks back to their first exchange, Armie finds it quite cute. He pulls the chair out for Tim and flashes him a kind smile. And as expected, gets a confused grimace from the youngest Chalamet.

* * *

_ Winter 2014 _

"I can't believe you prepared a rap video for a statistics assignment! I mean fine if it was English literature or even history."

"Pauline! Why did you show it to him? And it was a brilliant idea okay? If she doesn't have the knack for talent and knowledge then her loss."

"Oh to be so self-absorbed and overconfident like a teenager."

"Shut up, Armie. I am not a kid." 

Pauline laughs loudly in the background having brought hay to the fire. She loves her little bro but she's not one to  _ not embarrass _ him any given moment. It's more fun because Armie has a way with words and Timmy has a weird thing for Armie. They were waiting for Timmy to come home to watch a movie, it was some Japanese movie recommended by Armie. Pauline was really interested to find out and she pulled Timmy in in their plans for the evening – hoping to have some quality time with his brother during his  _ busy _ schedule. For all she knows he was wasting time watching  _ Interstellar _ again.

"Ok, Lil man."

"It was Lil Timmy Tim." He rolls his eyes.

"That's too much alliteration for me. Lil man works."

"Uhh. You're such an old man." Timmy grabs the pillow from him and sulks in the corner of the couch. Pauline eyes Armie, directing him to apologize and hurries off to get back her charging phone, announcing loudly, "I am going to get my phone from my room." 

"I was only teasing."

Tim only huffs and Armie has an urge to laugh out loud. But he keeps his stance, can't have the kid be pouty the whole evening, "I am sorry. I get carried away with Pauline."

"You always look down on me."

"That's not…" why did he even think that? Armie is honestly surprised by the admission. Armie is almost ten years older than him and he has not come close to achieving what Tim has achieved in such limited time, "not even close. You're just really easy to tease, I guess."

When Tim doesn't turn around, still facing the tv, Armie gets up and sits close to him. He nudges Tim's tiny shoulders with his own, "Hey! Come on! Why would I look down upon someone who got a role in a  _ Nolan _ movie?"

"It wasn't...it was a small role."

"Tim. Please, you're being modest."

Tim's laugh has anything but humor, "Yeah, sure Armie."

Armie barrels on, sometimes he can't take a hint, "I watched that movie and even if you didn't have the biggest role…"

"I watched it 11 times okay?! I know what I am talking about. They cut my role, significantly so! I know that it's a huge honor to be cast in a  _ Nolan _ movie but I was barely there. I kept crying in the darkened theatre thinking this is what I am good for — easily forgettable characters — the son, the boyfriend, the bully."

The flailing hands almost hit Armie. He tries to take a step back. This conversation went in a completely different direction. He tries the best to steer it. Wants Timmy to know he's worthy. But just as he opens his mouth to say something, Timmy replies and it's as if he's read the words floating through Armie's brain.(It's an odd occurrence that happens a lot over the years, Tim has him figured out in a way no one has — it's alarming yet thrilling)

"Don't you get it – this what I'll always be! I will be skinny forever and look at least five years younger than my age and I will be playing a dumb asshole teenager well into my thirties for some long-running tv show that kills off characters here and there with a shitty plot and even shitty pitiable cast who don't have anything lined up other than this crap of a show with hostile fan base."

Tim tries to breathe. His voice had gone loud and high – he just couldn't control his emotions – it all came out. He dares to glance at Armie's expression, expecting pity and annoyance. But Armie for some reason is cautiously smiling and that just adds fuel to the fire. Timmy is ready to go into another rant when Armie holds both of his hands and pins him back to the sofa.

"Hey! From what I can tell – and you have to know I am not well versed in movie making and acting – the whole rant you did was an awesome monologue. And I am sure if you do even half of what you did just now, in an audition then roles will be lining up and down for you." The anger in his face is relentless. He must be keeping it in for so long, it was all dumped on Armie for some reason, "Sometimes you just have to let things happen for you. Can't accelerate your journey, Tim."

"What do you know about struggling?"

Armie can't take off his eyes from Tim. He looks the poster child for rebels but there's also a current of hurt in all his raged up-front. Interstellar released a few weeks ago, it must be a fresh open wound.

"I am privileged, I know. But that has nothing to do with the path I've chosen." Armie is still holding onto Timmy's hands. Still locked in a staring contest. He doesn't understand how they came to be like this, only moments ago, he was pushing Tim's buttons and now they are confessing things they haven't to anyone else, "I don't like to talk about it. Ashamedly I like to pretend it was easy for me. But it wasn't." He opens his mouth once and twice but the words don't come. He has to force them out, "I tried acting for a while and failed. Miserably. I was so bad I called people to pull out my scenes from their movies. Then I got back to studying finance for the sake of my parents. And then quit again because it was not my calling. They disowned me, Timmy!" He's smile doesn't reach his eyes but he tries nonetheless, to keep the situation light, "I was given too many chances for a fuck up. I joined community college and started learning languages, studying art, and philosophy. At that point, it was all because I knew being multilingual brought big bucks. I just wanted to fucking survive. It grew on me. Thank fucking god it grew on me."

Tim is enraptured in Armie's story. He's never seen or heard this side of Armie. The sudden burst of emotions and vulnerability throws him off. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Pauline peaking in the room and then quickly going up the stairs, back to her room.

"When I got an internship for a company, I was the oldest. High school kids were doing what I was doing. And for that internship, I had worked my ass off. Just to fucking get in, I had to raise hell...volunteering here and there. Working free for companies, doing dishes at a restaurant." 

Flashes of light shine in his eyes. The dirty plates, the long hours, hungry stomach and old ragged shoes. He looks down at Tim and hopes he will say something but when he doesn't Armie continues, "The moment I met your father my life really got back on track. I finally entered the UN as an intern. And really, here I am trying to drill it into your head that you have your whole life ahead of you. And the raw talent and passion you have is so much more than people doing it for impure reasons like making fucking money." Like me is left unsaid. He likes to think of himself as a linguist, philosophy enthusiast and literature buff but all those things were not naturally crystallized into being.

Armie didn't realize he had come so close. Timmy has sunk further down the sofa and Armie is hovering above him. Their hearts beating loudly in the enclosed space. Chest heaving up and down from the lack of oxygen and the amount of charged emotions.

"I am sorry." Armie apologizes, now in a low whisper, afraid of letting anyone hear what they are talking about, "that was uncalled for. I don't even know what point I was making."

"I am sorry too."

"I won't tease you anymore."

"No, please. I won't like to think I stopped you from doing that."

"Okay." He should really move away. Over the years, he would understand the consequences of being alone with Timmy in a room. There would always be a need to keep the door open. To have a look around and feel safe that they were not left alone. 

Tim leans up, stares at his mouth and Armie knows it's all going wrong. He still sees him as this kid – Marc's very bright teenage(although he'll soon turn 19) son. He pushes him further down in the cushions with a cheeky little grin, "Lil man, Can we finally watch the movie now? If we have your permission." Hands sneak under his arm, tickle Timmy mercilessly. Pauline finally comes back after hearing the laughter, allowing herself to join in on the fun. When Armie leaves to pick the forgein movie all while feeling like a braggart, she presses a kiss to Timmy's forehead, whispers in his ears, "okay?"

A bright red, flushed all over Tim answers while making moon eyes at Armie's hunched over figure, "Yeah."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's already Sunday where I am. But I guess it's Saturday for most people? *shrugs*

_Spring 2018_

The emotions surge on his face like turbulent tides. Timmy seems conflicted with the bombshell of information.

"But you...you guys were perfect. Last year I met you..."

Armie hasn't revealed his separation with Liz to anyone – not anyone who matters. It's not the first time he's uttered his secret to Timmy. Not the first he confided in him. Timmy's reaction doesn't surprise him. They were a well-oiled machine – Liz and him – it wasn't the case of pretending but the matter of habit. They were the epitome of analogous. They worked, they thrived knowing that their parts, their lives kept and held their marriage. But at the end of the day, they were too mechanic, too perfunctory.

"What does perfect even mean?"

Timmy sways on the spot and whispers, "What you guys had."

"Then I wish nobody had that."

Timmy risks another glance at Armie, "You're really that bitter?"

"I don't have the privilege of being bitter."

Armie watches as Timmy nods, takes his time to understand the situation, to peel it layer by layer inside his mind, to take a breath and decide what to say. Armie wonders if he will ask him. What happened? Did you do her wrong? But even if they aren't close right now(were they ever that close?), Armie knows that Tim can read him like a book. No way he can't put two and two together. The question is whether he is ashamed of Armie or not. 

"I just...hope you're happy." The tenderness is undeserving. The green in his eyes offers so much kindness, Armie would like to drown in his guilt.

"I am devastated. Ashamed."

"Stop being hard on yourself. You are always like this."

Their hands brush on the sidewalk and Armie has an urge to hold hands. Feels like a child to yearn for comfort. From a man much, much smaller and younger than him.

"Should we go home?"

Should he? Will it be wise to follow along Tim? Armie can't risk this delicate thread of intimacy. Doesn't want to impulsively jump into a firey pool of regret. He wonders what the night will unveil if he says yes.

"Yeah."

* * *

The taxi ride is comfortably silent. Tim doesn't ask any questions. Does not make the hassle of small talk. He seems lost in his thought – Armie tries not to overthink much.

The journey seems longer than usual. It's definitely the longest Armie has spent in Tim's presence, alone. There is an unspoken familiarity between them — something that grew over the years, even while being apart, not knowing what the other was doing. How they can meet at someplace obscure, devoid of the influence of time and come face to face with the familiar intimacy — its something that Armie just can't explain. Why Marc's son has always left him so adrift. He shouldn't have this effect on him. He shouldn't be thinking about their meetings for days on end – being unsettled and unsatisfied with the culmination of their time together. 

The questioning always makes him dizzy — the possibility of _more_ can do more damage than good. Armie wants to be good so he will be good. He owes that to the Chalamets.

* * *

Timmy's apartment is – for the lack of a better word – small. Tiny. He can't help but tease him about it.

"For a movie star…"

"I know. I know. But I just did an indie movie, alright. And what would I do with a bigger place? I live here with my friends and I am used to it."

Only then Armie realizes that there are people living here. Inside closed doors. Tim didn't bring him to an empty house, there are no motives, no intentions behind his action. 

"Shall we?" He nods towards a room, Armie assumes his own. There's not much space between the old couch and the walls, the kitchen only a foot away from the fridge. Armie has to fold his arms and enclose his legs to get to Timmy's room. Just when they reach, Timmy stops him, "I hope you don't mind sharing the bed. The couch is small."

It shouldn't make him nervous, it's not like he hasn't crashed on Nick's bed all through the separation. He has shared a bed with Tyler – crying all night about his mistakes. But it does seem inappropriate – Tim is much younger and they don't know each other that well. And this is a ridiculous situation, why did he agree to come back to his place? Is he really that lonely?

"I can sleep on the couch if you want" Tim offers.

"You'll end up freezing, I know how easily you get cold. I don't want to answer Marc how I killed his son. We'll share." Going back just doesn't seem like a good idea right now. He'll have to suck it up. And maybe it's a blessing, everyone is busy in their lives and they don't have time to just sit and talk to each other. Who knows where Timmy will be in a few months, in a few years. Maybe they'll drift apart — Tim won't return to this apartment and won't return to Armie.

"Okay. And you don't have to worry, I don't take much space. I just like to curl around myself. You won't have a problem."

"It's okay Timmy. I am not one to nit-pick." His hand makes it to Timmy's head and he pats gently. Ruffles the soft curls. It's a habit which should have been long gone – Timmy isn't a kid anymore, he wouldn't like Armie being so affectionate with him. But Timmy just smiles and opens the door to his room. Inside, the lights are off, the street lamps allow speckles of warmth and coziness this late spring night.

"It's not much. I mean, you can stretch your hands all wide and touch the walls on both ends."

"I can try it out."

"You don't have to." Timmy sings along. He jumps on the bed and throws away his jacket to opt for a cozy sweater. 

"Shoes off." Armie's voice is all commanding. It sends shivers down his body.

"This is my bed."

"I said off." Armie sits on the other side, removing his own shoes. 

Timmy looks at him again, chuckling agrees, "Ok, old man."

Armie bites his own tongue from saying something. He was gonna say Lil man but he remembers how much Timmy hated that nickname. He piles up his phone and wallet on the bedside table and relaxes with his feet up, maintains a distance from Timmy even on the small bed.

"You never told me why you dream about Crema."

He watches Timmy take his time. Humming along with a song and putting his feet inside the blanket, fluffing up the pillows and tucking himself in, "You don't want to sleep?"

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep until you answer me."

"Why? You shared so I too have to share?"

"Yeah. Think of it like that."

"Close the door please." 

He says it so casually, not knowing what it's doing to Armie's poor heart. The older man has nothing to say, no excuse to make so he slips out of the bed, walks barefoot to the door, looks around once to see if anyone is lurking in the corner and closes the damn door. The click sounds final to his ear – it says you're fucked.

Timmy is comfortable in his bed. He seems sleepy but doesn't look like he'll mind some conversation. He pats the empty space on the bed.

"Crema was a beautiful experience. I came of age as an actor but also as a human being." Tim looks uncomfortable for a second, afraid to go on, "it was my big summer romance."

Armie tries not to be brash. He has a tendency to, "Like Elio?"

"Yes, like Elio. I got my heart broken like Elio."

Armie rests his palm against his thighs, tries not to show the storm inside his heart. They are talking about Timmy and it's unfair to be anything but an honest listener. Timmy looks at him for validation, has always looked up to him – it's a huge responsibility for someone as irresponsible as Armie. 

"Was it Oliver?"

"It was." It's a quiet admission. Armie senses that Timmy has made his peace with it after tormenting himself for years. It's saddening to see the reality of Oliver leaving Elio. The heartbreak written on Timmy's face. 

"It must have been hard."

"Yeah, unlike _Oliver_ he belonged to someone else from the start. I was stupid to let my emotions go."

"You were not stupid. You should know that."

"I didn't know any better." Timmy desperately wants to shove his heartache away, wants to let go off this heavy weight for just a second, "Anyway, it doesn't matter now – A falling tree in a forest does not make a sound if no one is there to hear it."

"But there is always someone in the forest."

The smile on his face is worth everything. Only if he knew. 

"And what would the forest deity like to say?"

"He would laugh at you. Why are you so hung up on someone when you can have anyone?" The idea had settled in his brain like old spider webs. He was winded on the notion that Timmy couldn't settle with someone, why would he need to? 

"It's not the same. Do you know anything about love?" 

Armie retracts after the accusation – it's very much the truth, he doesn't know a thing or two about love. It's pathetic really. Timmy couldn't possibly know that Armie has spent days and nights thinking about this – did he ever fall in love? Has someone truly loved him? Has he floated through life chasing all sorts of wrong things and then settling, thinking what he had was enough?

"I don't think so. I don't know much."

The pause in the conversation makes Armie sick to his stomach. He wants to open the windows, open the fucking door, and make a run for it. Like he always does when he's not brave enough for the people in his life. Concentrating on the loose thread in his shirt, he tries to bring his mind back online, can't have this conversation end like this. 

"I have kept a shirt of his with me. Stolen obviously, we don't really talk anymore... I still re-read his favorite book. I remember what he said about it. I keep rereading, trying and failing to find a piece of him in between the pages. I wonder if I'll ever forget about him, or I'll keep searching perpetually. Holding onto his memories while I hug his shirt."

It's no surprise Timmy is the first one to speak – always with his heart on his sleeve. His head lolls back on the wall behind, he sighs deeply, contemplating the love Timmy has for this man – this stranger Armie knows nothing about. The history they both have shared, the pain Timmy has willingly carried on his own shoulders. It's all too much. 

Armie knows this feeling though – how slivers of people you love always stays with you, even when the person has been long gone, "I still have my step-mother's lighter with me – a shiny silvery thing with a deer engraved on it. She was the only one who was kind to me – she caught me smoking at seventeen but didn't berate me for it. Made me promise not to do it again, made me throw away my lighter and the pack of cigarettes. Gifted me her own on my eighteenth birthday. My father divorced her four months later. We never talked again. But I always think about her. Still keep the lighter with me – even though I have stopped smoking."

Maybe it's the tenderness in his voice that prompts it, maybe it's the sweet remembrance, Timmy can't help but ask "Did you...love her?"

"No, I…" words don't flow in his mind. Memories do. The way he would always seek her out. The way she was so much younger than his father and so much more intelligent. They didn't talk much but when they did, he always felt like leaning on her, the kindness she showed to a chaotic kid was unexpected for him. Did he love her? He certainly hopes not, it's not something he ever gave thought but weirdly when Tim mentioned people of the past and the things that stayed in the present – she was the first one to come to mind.

"I have books from friends who I don't talk to now. A coat from an ex-girlfriend that hangs in my closet. It's not...it's not a big deal." He's not ready to open this can of worms. He can't fucking imagine the thought that he might have loved his step-mother. That's fucking fucked up. 

Tim sees the turmoil on his face. Knows he somehow unleashed something deep-buried inside Armie. Can't believe there are so many layers to this man. Wants to comfort him but doesn't know how. Feels strangely emotional and miserable after hearing Armie's story. 

"The thing is – Oliver will always be a part of you. Years down the line, When you're thirty, you'll see his favorite book and think of him. All while wearing a scarf from another one of your ex-boyfriends, sipping coffee from a mug your long lost friend gifted and playing with a ring your fiancé put on...people come and go in our lives but their pieces stay with us. So do we for the matter. For me...I am grateful to have these pieces. Over time their memories grow less painful and more bittersweet."

"I hope that time comes soon." Tim whispers with tears threatening to spill from his eyes, "it's painful. To keep searching for words, for thoughts that are never there." His mouth curls on the onslaught of tears. Pouting, he allows them to fall. Not thinking twice about Armie being there.

"Tim." Armie can't handle the distance between. Has to take Timmy into his arms. Somehow make it easier for him. He pulls the blanket over himself and slides closer to Timmy who's crying face down in the pillow. Slides his hand on Timmy's long neck and holds his face. Timmy sobs harder and Armie's heart breaks into two, "it's okay. Shh, Timmy. Please, it's okay." 

He does what he's never done before – presses a soft kiss on his temple and his nose, breathing in the air that Timmy's sucking in quickly. Swipes the pearls of tears away from his eyes and his cheeks, whispers with his lips pressed to his nose, "I swear its gonna be okay." Closes his eyes and for once, doesn't think about anything. Seconds later, he feels wet lips against his own – a barely-there kiss that doesn't lead to anything. For some reason, it doesn't feel monumental. He pulls Timmy to his chest and squeezes, hears him laugh softly, and feels a weight being lifted off his shoulders. Timmy winds an arm around Armie's waist and nuzzles into his neck – breathing in his smell and feeling the weariness of all the pent-up emotions. His eyes get heavy and he feels himself slipping into a deep dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I hesitated posting this chapter twice. Thought of deleting a segment. Coming back and making changes and still feeling off. But here it is. The characters really have their own lives😅


	5. Chapter 5

_Spring 2018_

He doesn't dream much these days. 

Armie wakes up at the edge of dawn and watches Timmy's sleeping form adorably curled around his own shoulder. It melts his heart. He's not ready to evaluate last night, not yet. Rubbing his eyes, he picks up the phone and decides to sleep some more. The next time he wakes up, it's an end to a fascinating dream.

_He's being chased by some faceless ghost in a rusty house. Room after room, he tries to find a hideout, an exit but all of them end up being wrong. As time runs out, the house seems to shrink, the ceiling coming up closer and closer to his head. He enters a room after much hassle and there he sees Timmy. Now all thought and existence of the ghost are forgotten. Timmy is sleeping peacefully in a fur coat with silk sheets around. He is the brightest thing in this dark dream. Armie comes closer and starts tugging away the coat to peer at the pale skin. Timmy sturs in his sleep, flutters his eyes at Armie, and beckons him closer. The pale unmarked skin is everything – the stark contrast between the dark, deep red, and the blemishless creamy skin. Armie puts his mouth on Timmy's long neck, presses soft kisses to the moles scattered around. He travels downwards and sucks his collarbone, his nipples, and his cute little tummy. Armie is almost there. He runs his hands on Timmy's soft thighs and bends down to put his mouth…_

Something sharp hits him in the rib and he almost rolls out of the bed. At first, he just wants to go back to what he was doing, finish what he started – he can feel the onset of arousal just thinking about it. Secondly, it's hard to understand his surroundings, where the fuck he is. Armie sits up and inspects the small room. Eyes the bed and a second later, the curly-haired boy in bed with him.

"Fuck!"

For a moment, Nothing comes back to him but the dream and he imagines them sleeping together. Having Timmy like _that_. All to himself, all for his pleasure. The arousal raps on his door first but then the guilt kicks in. He's shameless to think of him like this – Marc's son, someone who's so much younger than him. Last night comes back to him little by little. Even though the intimacy of their talk has been dulled down by the sleep, Armie has no right to dream about the vulnerable boy next to him. He allows himself one more glance at Timmy and then leaves to freshen up, maybe throw a bucket of cold water down his face and body to calm down.

When he's done Timmy's smiling face is there to greet him. Looking cozy in his slim sweater and his disheveled hair. He looks like a kitten – really cute and not to mention, almost 5 years younger.

And fuck.

They kissed last night, didn't they? 

Armie tries to return the genuine smile. He's sure it wasn't a big deal. It was just a peck and that too initiated by Timmy. 

"Okay, old man?"

"Yeah." He hopes his face doesn't have 'doomed' written all over it. Hopes Timmy doesn't notice the way Armie cringes at the nickname, "groggy. I never sleep this long."

"It's fine. Let me get ready and we can have something for brunch?"

"Oh. Yeah sure." Armie has no idea how Timmy makes it so easy. Maybe the generation gap is valid – Armie is too old to be casual.

"You can take a shower and change into some of my clothes but I am not sure if they will fit you." He gets up from the bed and rounds the room for his phone, plugs it in for charging. Places his shoes at the makeshift shoe-rack and starts picking his outfit for the day. Armie feels lost in his maneuver – he's not sure what he's supposed to do so he just sags and sits on the bed.

"No, it's fine. I will shower at home. Anyhow, I think I might have overstayed my welcome."

"Overstayed? And what should you have done? Sneak out in the night like a one-night stand?"

Armie was seconds away to lean over and grab the water bottle from the bed table. He would have drank from it and splattered all over the floor.

"No...i...i don't..." 

"Don't trip over yourself to answer that. This is how we roll, Hammer." His voice is still colored with sleep. Armie wonders if his mind is too.

He stays silent and watches Timmy as he yanks clothes after clothes from the wardrobe, eventually picking blue jeans and a black t-shirt with a wide neck. He takes his time choosing accessories too – Armie didn't know he put so much effort into his look. 

"You're getting bored?"

Armie answers impulsively, "No. I am enjoying watching you fuss over your clothes and stuff." 

"I don't know whether to take it as a compliment or not." The shit-eating grin on his face tells otherwise, "why don't we play some music. My speaker should be somewhere here." He reaches his overflooded chair and starts grabbing the clothes away, "just a second."

Armie laughs at his antics. God, this kid.

"You go, washup. I'll play some music"

"Please don't plug your phone in, I don't trust your choice of music. Here, have my phone – the password is 0000."

Armie would never agree to it but what comes out of his mouth is definitely a giggle and a squee, "ok Mr. LaGuardia, Mr. Columbia, and Mr. NYU."

"Oh fuck off! It's hard to remember passwords and I have fucked up before so I keep it simple."

Armie loves that he's getting to watch Timmy unabashedly swear. It's another side of him he adores, "you know you're a movie star right now, it's not good if you keep this low-level security in your phone."

Timmy rolls his eyes fondly and knocks Armie's shoulder, "First of all, there's no such thing as a movie star in today's world but go off I guess. Second of all, I am getting hungry and cranky because I am hungry so please let me have a warm shower before we can go."

Armie loves his exaggerated expressions. His obvious smile and the light banter. He can't shut up for a second, "Warm shower in the spring? Timmy please."

"God, I am going you asshole!" 

* * *

It doesn't take long – Timmy quickly washes up in the shared bathroom and comes out fully dressed. Armie wonders if he was alone he would have draped over a towel and would have changed in the room. Tries not to dwell on that thought too long. Instead, he teases Timmy who's now fusing over his hair.

"You surprisingly took less time in the shower than choosing your clothes."

"Are you implying I am sloven?"

"I merely made an observation. I am not implying anything."

Timmy mocks him with an impression of his deep voice with a cheeky smile, "Merely made an observation. Okay, professor!"

"You're in a mood today, huh?"

Slatues him and grins brightly, "I am always like this Hammer."

"You haven't called me Hammer in years."

"Hmm. I don't know why I stopped. It suits you."

"You're gonna tell me why?"

"Nope."

"You can be sassy when you want to be."

"And you like it."

There's no denying that. Armie does like it. Fuck, he has missed it, missed it so fucking much, "I do like."

Timmy, for the first time in their conversation, blushes furiously. But he can hide it well unlike Armie who goes red instantly even with his tropical tan. After declaring that his hair looks good, he carefully hooks the necklace on. Tries to ignore Armie's eyes who are unknowingly stuck on his hands playing with the light chain and the long pale neck covered with moles. Flushes more and more when Armie doesn't say anything. He takes his time wearing the bracelets and his thoughts roam back to last night – the slight tension at the start and the vulnerable ending that finally exhausted him. He wonders if Armie will bring up the kiss – Timmy might be very touchy-feely but he doesn't go around kissing friends on the lips. He doesn't even have an excuse of being drunk!

"So this bakery has a lot of good stuff. Will and I are frequent customers."

"Yeah, sure why not. The amount of time you took in dressing up – It got me very hungry and it's definitely time for lunch, not brunch."

"Alright, alright! No need to get so feisty. We will go now. And FYI, you have to try their lemon meringue pie."

"You know I don't have a sweet tooth as you do." 

"Can you for one second not tease me."

Armie laughs a delightful laugh, "it's honestly hard to control." He grabs Timmy by the shoulder, unaware of his tight grip, and leads them both outside the room and the small flat.

The bakery is not far from the building Timmy lives in so they don't have to wait much for food. Timmy easily finds a spot for them to sit in and he's grateful that the rush hour hasn't spoiled his plans. While they wait for their order Timmy asks Armie if he will join Marc and Nicole for dinner sometime in the coming week.

"Mom misses you. She absolutely loves your steak."

"Really? I guess I will have to make a round at their place. And I miss her too – I like her fussing over me. She's so perfect."

"Perfect? I thought you didn't believe in anything perfect." There's a glint in his eyes that Armie recognizes from last night. A flirty tone if he indulges. The smile spreads on his face against his judgment – he can't help it. Armie looks away in the direction of the kitchen for their awaited food instead of meeting Timmy's gaze which seems to pierce anything that comes in its way. The kid has deep soulful eyes that can play innocent. He can switch easily from Disney princess to David fucking Bowie.

"Anyway, Mom is anything but perfect." He sits back on his chair and sighs, fondly reiterates Nicole's fussing, "I mean she's overprotecting as fuck. I've had had really questionable relationships in the past and she absolutely hates it." He stretches his fingers and places them inside his armpit – a weird habit that Armie can't help but notice, "Mom is really nosy with all my relationships. I mean she was nosy with Pauline too but stopped after she got in a long time relationship... You know what? Now that I remember she wanted you to be Pauline's boyfriend!"

And just like that, the firey glint in his eyes changes – it's still bright but much more light and soft. Timmy's declaration – for a second – swipes off of his ears. He's mesmerized by the boy sitting in front of him.

"Armie? Did I shock you into a coma?"

"No...I. What?"

Timmy rolls his eyes adorably and repeats, "Mom wanted you to be her son-in-law. She was quite disappointed when we found out that you got engaged."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Wait! What the fuck?"

"Finally. Thank you."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Nope. Mom was really acting like she missed out and Pauline was rolling her eyes. Papa and I kept laughing with tears in our eyes."

"No fucking way." Armie squeaks and at the same moment, the waiter decides to come up with their food. He apologizes for the swearing and takes the order, watches with regret as the waiter goes back to work, utterly confused. Timmy all the while hides his face by laying his head down on the table, covering his mouth with his hands – trying to control his laughter.

"Okay. It's not that funny."

"I am sorry but it is." He finally comes up for air and his face is red as a rose. 

"Can we eat?"

"Yeah. Sure."

Armie digs into the chicken sandwich and nods his approval at the taste. Timmy grins and takes a photo of his plate and after a moment of consideration a photo of Armie eating. They silently finish the food and Timmy orders dessert which includes the famous lemon meringue pie. He has to stop the urge of pulling out his phone again for a picture because Armie's face is priceless. He thinks it's way too sweet but weirdly sour at some places. Timmy counters it's the way it's supposed to be. Armie grumbles but finishes the pie. It's already over four pm in the evening so Armie calls it a day – he has spent the night and half the day with Timmy, he should go back home. Wash up and catch up on his unpacking. 

Timmy peers around as they stand outside the bakery, waiting for Armie's ride. He thinks of what to say. Maybe make him promise that he'll come to the dinner and stop avoiding Papa's calls but it's not any of his business so he doesn't.

"Come visit sometimes." Armie nods at the arriving Uber. Is unable to make eye contact with Timmy, "I heard you'll be here for a while."

"Yeah. In the summer I will have to leave, the filming locations are all over the place in England. And it's still early, some of the cast members have to be confirmed too."

Armie nods like he understands. Doesn't have anything else to say. His ride is here and he has to go – maybe he'll see Timmy a few times with the Chalamets and maybe that will be it. Timmy will surely thrive over the course of time and meet people he could actually admire. He would soon forget about Armie. And Armie's okay with that. Big movie star or not, sometimes people are not meant to be in each other's lives. It's hard to imagine himself as Timmy's friend, they run in very different circles…

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing. I just...i'll miss you." He realizes that he's acting weird and Timmy is not going anywhere right now. He amends and says, "I mean when you go to the UK."

Timmy smiles beautifully and plays with his hair so as to hide his blush, "I will miss you too." He doesn't let himself overthink his actions, just goes for it – standing on his tiptoes, placing a hand on Armie's shoulder, he places a soft kiss on his cheek. Backs down and watches Armie's face turn red. Has the urge to pull his cheek in adoration but then the Uber driver is calling Armie over and he is rushing with his goodbye and making a run for his life. Timmy giggles at his nervousness and shouts a bye. Watches the car disappear into the herd of traffic.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments 💌  
> I love how people are intrigued with this story!

_ June 2018 _

"I admire people who are fearless." Nicole was discussing another one of Timmy's dates at the dinner table. Armie sat there the whole time and imagined Timmy in a nice outfit charming some random girl, then back in his apartment or hers, standing at the window and suggesting more than kissing.

"Fearless how?" They are standing in their own corner now. Away from Timmy's parents. A veil of privacy for a moment.

"Fearless in the way that they meet people and opportunities with a blindfold on their eyes. I like how they feel excited rather than uncomfortable in new situations and presence."

"Is that why you refuse to date? Cause you're not fearless? That's your excuse?"

Timmy quickly takes a look behind to make sure his parents are not hearing their conversation. Armie has finally agreed to meet them after months of convincing and everything has been going well tonight, he doesn't want to stir the pot too much but sometimes he can't help it. It's still a delicate thread – Armie hasn't stopped isolating others. Still goes on weeks without picking up Timmy's calls.

It makes him angry. Their methods of coping couldn't be more different. Timmy clings to people while Armie isolates himself. 

"Don't go there." There's a warning in his eyes. Timmy knows Armie is a modicum of hot iron. When heated he'll burn anything that comes near him but just like a hot iron, he's also one to cool rather quickly overnight. Anger has always made him do regretful things to the people he loves. In his mind, it's better to keep everyone at arm's length.

It didn't do them any good. Timmy wasn't able to find someone who could be understanding and at the same time be empathizing with his heartbreak. And Armie couldn't let go of his guilt and loneliness.

"You told me to visit sometimes." Timmy hates being like this. He knows he's being clingy and childish demanding Armie's attention. He knows he's repeating what he's always done in the past. If only the two years had taught him a lesson.

"Look, I am sorry for being an ass. I am just going through a lot." But that's not it, Armie wanted to avoid Timmy for different reasons he can't voice.

"I am too. I loved someone and now I am grieving the loss of this person I never had. Not to mention how miserable I am to see  _ her _ with  _ him _ , all the fucking time."

In the kitchen, Marc opens up another bottle of wine and Nicole heats up samosas to munch on. They avoid the boys, sensing tension on the other side of the room. Armie looks at Timmy's empty glass and wonders how over the years things have changed. How he's seen him being a child who wasn't allowed anywhere near alcohol. It unsettles him.

"Grief does not correspond to love. The love will be shorter, the grief will be longer. The natural order is not acceptable." Armie iterates the quote from one of his favorite translated books. He looks at the frail boy with the big heart in front of him, "this haunting line was meant for the heroine of the  _ Tale of Genji  _ when she died. She loved someone who couldn't be with her completely. Someone with a wife and a string of lovers. She was haunted by his wife's vindictive soul. If I remember correctly, it was the jealous soul that killed her."

Timmy can't help but smile, "Now, you're being very fucking morbid… Do you think jealousy will kill me?"

"I hope not."

"Me too. I hope the guilt doesn't kill  _ you _ ." Timmy challenges Armie with his pointed eyes. Armie forgets how this boy is a blunt knife but a knife none the less. He can't help but stare – those warm greens look hardened for a second but with a blink of an eye, they welcome Armie to peek inside. Timmy licks his lips out of habit and wets them – Armie has an urge to pull him by his tiny waist and grab his chin. He imagines how soft Timmy will be in his arms. Imagines running his hands through those luscious curls.

Instead of doing what he desires, he extends his arm and asks, "Tregua?" 

Timmy does an exaggerated sigh, smiles, and meets Armie halfway, "Tregua."

* * *

Timmy goes to the UK soon enough. Even though they hardly met over the last few months, Armie can feel an ache inside his chest. A lost opportunity. Regret. He shakes his head and starts getting ready for work. Today marks his first day as a single divorced man and as much as he dislikes the term, it has claimed a spot in Armie's brain. It's hard to let go of this label, this tag that hangs from his neck like a loosened noose.

He hasn't heard from Elizabeth in a while. Not that he thinks she would contact him but its the fact that it's never been this long since they didn't talk to each other. He's feeling lonely and he has an itch to text her. In an impulsive moment, he picks up the phone and searches for her contact number. The last text was almost six months ago. Before he can formulate a legitimate text that's not 'I miss you' or 'How are you?', he gets an Instagram request from Timmy. His private account.

Armie blinks and clears his throat.

He checks the time and realizes if he stays any longer he will be late to office.

He rolls the phone in his hands. Anticipation bubbles up in his chest. The small profile pic mocks him and asks him to give in – to scroll through the photos and analyze every single one of them. To really know what goes on in Timmy's life. Somehow, the anxiety has been replaced by apprehension. Armie stops in his tracks, breathes, and decides to stop the urge. He has to work, has to concentrate, and then meet a multilingual translator for dinner(not a date). He can't let his day be consumed by an Instagram account. Can't give Timmy the satisfaction of instantly giving in.

So the day goes on. He tries to work but can't focus. Has to pull away from his phone once in a while. Eats lunch with Nick who tells him he has a date with some girl he met at a farmer's market. Armie is glad to share his meals with someone because having lunch alone is something he's hated over the years. While Nick munches away, Armie pulls out his phone and stares at the request. Before he can have another bite, he accepts the request, sends a follow back, and puts his phone back on the table with a thud. Nick looks concerned and asks, "Text from Liz?"

"What? No...We just finalized everything yesterday – sent our signed papers to the DA. No reason she'll text me. It's just...Timmy sent an Instagram request so I accepted."

"Okay. That was a weird reaction."

"Was it?"

"I guess not, you're weirdly infatuated with the kid."

"Woah, I am not." Armie laughs nervously. His phone pings and he has an impulse to check his phone. Resists for a second before giving in and checking Instagram. Tim has followed him back and Armie has now access to all his private photos. God, he sounds like a creep. 

"Whatever you say man but we both know you have the hots for him."

"No, I don't. And you know why? Because I too am going on a date today."

"What? You never told me! Who is she?" Nick pauses for a second before adding, "or he?"

"It's no one you know."

"You mean they're not real."

"Oh, she's very real. She's a translator who's very much educated and smart and…"

"Boring"

"Shut up."

"What does she look like?" 

And that's a fair question – Armie really doesn't know. He was asked by an acquaintance, a professor at the NYU to help her with some documents/literature papers. Armie had recently polished his French to help out a colleague who was going on maternity leave so he thought he could help her with this. It would be a nice little project to invest his time in.

"It's a blind date."

"When did you start going on blind dates? Who set it up?"

His phone pings again and he sees a message from Timmy. A single smiley – : ) 

God, this kid is so weird. Armie feels warmness spreading in his chest. A smile inadvertently renders on his face. He sees a story by the kid posted just now. Wonders what time of the day it is in the UK. 

"Details, details, details. I'll tell you all about it when it's done all right?"

Nick looks suspicious but lets it go. They stuff their faces with steak and Armie makes him promise to renew the gym subscription. Nick teases him how he's become such a health freak and Armie tells him it's all about routine and healthy lifestyle. Doesn't tell him how he likes the company, the trainer asking him about his day, the trainer's dog awaiting his arrival, the middle-aged man who wants to be fit for his wedding, who likes telling stories.

When he's back at work, he stops trying to pay attention. He stalks Timmy's photos for an hour. And to his horror, likes a picture from 40 weeks ago.

"Fuck! Fuck!" 

Panicking he almost unlikes the photo. Instantly he gets a message from Timmy.

_ Are you stalking me? _

Armie notices he has a weird way of texting. Even though he is the older one between the two, Armie uses emojis frequently. It takes the weight off of him, adding a little smile at the end.

_ No : P _

His heart speeds up a bit waiting for the reply. He imagines what Timmy would be doing at the moment. Googles quickly the time difference. 7:30 pm in UK. So it's not that late.

_ Ok. Ttyl, reading script with the cast. _

"Jerk." Even this little interaction brings a smile on his face. He can't stop thinking about Timmy the whole day – When he packs up at work, when he picks up a coffee at Starbucks and when he gets dressed up for his dinner. 

He has no expectations from this meeting. So it comes as a pleasant surprise when Dr. Johnson turns out to be a beautiful woman with wits and immense knowledge. She's been researching the  _ thousands and one-night series _ and wants his help in translating the original French document. Her own domain is Arabic and a few more languages.

"It's funny how the original stories came from a French translator, Galland."

" _ Galland  _ you mean."

"Yes, pardon my French accent." She adds sarcastically. Armie is instantly charmed.

Her bangs beautifully frame her face. Her hair looks incredibly soft. It reminds him of Timmy – his brown curly hair which though untamed, is wonderfully soft and silky. Armie finds himself staring.

"Armie?"

"Yes? Yeah, I was thinking about Galland. I mean, it's incredible that he collected so many stories and also finished them but doesn't it mean that they're not authentic?" He ends his rant with a tight smile. Worried about his impolite staring.

"There's not a single thing about them that's authentic. Let me tell you about more translations of  _ Alf layla wa layla _ – it's what I am working on – there were two translations that stood out in polarity of each other. Edward Lane with his strictly scholarly translation that purged all the sexual elements from the story. And Burton's translation where he highlighted those sexual tales and then sold them to private buyers."

"Really? That's incredible, Dakota." Armie stares at her in amazement. He can never get enough of stories.

"It is incredible. How a story can have two or more than two versions. How we eat up only the one we want – the one that looks appetizing."

"I guess our lives are like that too."

"Yeah. The life you're living, the filtered one with purges that people want for you. And the one with only the exciting tidbits that's not yours, will never be yours."

"None of those come any close to the original. Your Life is written in a language only you can understand. "

"Uh huh. We are getting weirdly philosophical here."

"Sorry, I get carried away."

"Oh no. I enjoy these conversations." Dakota munches on the fries while she speaks. Armie thinks it's adorable and for some reason, he doesn't feel a tad bit of attraction towards her. Maybe his mind is stuck somewhere else. 

They end dinner with dessert which Armie refuses while Dakota gets two cheesecakes. He offers her a ride out of courtesy but is glad when she refuses – he doesn't want this dinner to turn into a date. Maybe there can be a possibility in the future but for now, he's content with only this. They exchange numbers and set up another meeting(Dakota explicitly calls it a meeting so Armie decides she must have a boyfriend). 

When he gets home he realizes that this is the most he's interacted with people in months. Lunch with Nick, dinner with Dakota, and Instagram shenanigans with Timmy that encompassed his whole day. He's blissfully tired when his body hits the bed. Sleep comes only after a moment.

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's mention of drug use. Not abuse. And it's marijuana in very little amount.  
> I know cannabis isn't allowed in NY but I am not American and this is a work of fiction : P

_ August 2018 _

The currents of time trickle away. Armie learns and relearns everything about himself. Peace is not something that can be found – or so he believes – but at the moment, he's oddly enough at peace with everything around him. He doesn't find it hard to be alone, doesn't feel like his mind will feed his whole self. It's like the rest of the year was a heady night and he's slowly waking up, absorbing the fresh sunlight and the blessing of forgetfulness. 

He's thankful for the human brain for not having the ability to store memories. The moments of the past are hazy. Over time, the edges start blurring, then the whole picture is just a fragment of words, scents, smiles, and emotions. He doesn't believe in stories where characters can recall every little detail of everything that had happened. Reminiscence is beautiful because they are incomplete. Memories are precious only because they are faded and softened in our existence. 

He meets Dakota over the summer. Finds himself falling in love. In love with languages, writing, and stories. He passes his post-graduate degree in Legals but without honors and without any future prospects – He can't bring himself to regret it. He learned something along the way even if it didn't lead him anywhere. He's trying not to think of life in terms of end goals. Everything is unpredictable, be it circumstances or himself. He lost interest in a lot of things along the way and life has carried him to new horizons, to explore and love.

* * *

Dakota found a place that served  _ hookah _ and amazing food. She really wanted to visit and Armie is glad she invited him. There are scents of all kinds all around – flavored cannabis(in tiny amounts so as to keep it legal) is being served in the hookah. Smoke covers the dim-lit restaurant and Armie already feels a little high. Just as they sit, he takes a hit from the pipe and inhales. It makes his limbs loose and his head a lot less heavy.

Dakota is sitting in front of him and she's giggling uncontrollably. Armie finds himself cracking jokes after jokes to keep her like this. He wonders if there could be something more than friendship between them – he adores her, finds her beautiful. There's something incredibly soft about her that makes him feel protective even though the girl can take care of herself.

"This is incredible."

"Told you so." She giggles and finally ties her hair in a bun, "you are being extra charming today."

"I am always charming."

Dakota shrugs. It's true. She looks him up and down with a lazy gaze, "it's tragic though."

"What is?"

"That I like someone else. If I didn't, I think I would have been all over you."

The honesty is muddled with drug haze but it's the truth. And Armie finds himself oddly relieved. To be honest, he's scared of losing her as a friend in pursuit of a relationship. 

"Who is it?" He can't help but be curious. Dakota is so vibrant. Who could possibly interest her? And are they already in a relationship?

"Professor Damrosch." She confesses quietly. 

And Armie must have heard her wrong because  _ Professor Damrosch _ ?

"Did you...is that the same professor?"

"Yes, Armie. The one and only."

Armie tries to control his expressions and his unsolicited judgment. Damrosch is his acquaintance that directed Dakota towards Armie for her project. He is an incredible man whose knowledge and experiences are unpreceded in the field of literature. Armie remembers attending his lecture and feeling completely at ease – the man is humble and captivating. Armie couldn't wait to talk to him. Class after class, he thought of ideas to discuss with the professor. He wanted to be in his presence, to have that magnetic personality and that immense river of knowledge at his disposal.

Damrosch is nearly sixty years old.

"You're judging me." She sounds utterly disappointed and it tells Armie everything. Her feelings are more than simple infatuation and hero-worshipping.

"I am not…" he is though. He doesn't want to lie to her but also doesn't want to be cruel. The only way to proceed is to listen to her story. He wants to know everything about this unexpected romance.

"It's more than just his intelligence, his wit, and his charm. I just...I love the way he listens to me. The way he nods and the way he looks at me with his soulful empathetic eyes. We couldn't be more different but I like talking to him – I feel like baring myself in front of him emotionally. And he has always been kind about it. From the beginning, he could tell that I liked him but he was never harsh to me. Always guided me in a different direction with a soft hand… he makes me laugh and he has a way of uncoiling complicated situations and emotions."

Armie listens to it all. With something akin to pain and anguish on his face because it sounds familiar. Really familiar.

"And the age difference. It's not like I don't think about it. I do. And I also feel weirdly guilty about it. Like I can't bring him to meet my parents and stuff. And yes, I have thought that far."

And that's the home run right there for Armie. The guilt he couldn't describe.

She adds, "I understand now why he asked you to help me. It was a setup. He knew you were single and obviously very handsome."

"Oh God, please don't tell me…"

"It was a blind date."

"I can't believe we are dating! No one told me!"

Dakota snorts and covers her mouth. She's having a giggle attack and Armie is glad he caused that. Tears come out of her eyes and she tries to wipe it using a napkin.

"That's not very useful." And then she starts hiccuping.

"You're unbelievable. I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to get high with you Dakota Johnson."

"Sorry, sorry. I have it under control, I swear." 

Armie offers her water and catches her wiping her eyes discreetly, a more anguished expression on her face. It stirs something in him. 

"I know that feeling."

"What feeling?" Her throat sounds scratchy so Armie takes away the hookah and pushes the whole water bottle in her hand.

"There was someone who I had feelings for," he clears his throat and feels the cannabis fading away. He needs to get high, "I didn't even know they were there. It just happened. She was older than me...and umm...married to my dad. "

"Oh shit"

"Yeah," he laughs at Dakota's exaggerated expression of being scandalized, wonders how she's so good at this, "And I don't feel the same way anymore but it was a big realization...actually I talked to someone about this. Opened up for the first time," 

He swallows the lump in his throat, can't believe he's added Timmy in the conversation, can't believe he was subconsciously thinking about him all this time, "The guilt is there for him too. He's young. So much younger than me. Not to mention my colleague, – more like mentor... mentor's son. I have watched him grow up from a teenager to a young man."

"Young man?" She covers her mouth while she laughs, "geez, we are not that old Armie."

"Yeah, Alright." He can't help but laugh – at the absurdity of the situation and himself, "I am attracted to him. And I keep thinking about him. But it's wrong, isn't it?"

"Armie you're missing some details here. He's not...not eighteen right?"

"No, he's twenty-two. I think twenty-three in a few months." He takes a hit from the hookah, sucking from the pipe, letting the flavored cannabis flow inside his chest. He wants to hide suddenly, twenty-two is hardly older than eighteen. Not to mention, he knew Timmy since he was only seventeen. He avoids Dakota's eyes.

"I don't think it should be a problem. I mean he also has to like you but it's fine Armie. Much better situation than me."

"But his father…"

"Nobody cares. You didn't make a move on his virginal son." She pauses for a second before asking, "you weren't waiting for him to get older, right?"

"No! It's not like that. I never felt that way about him before. It's recent. He's always been this bright, intelligent person but I never saw him in a romantic...sexual way."

"So how come this change happened?" Dakota munches on the fries (that she ordered the second time. This woman has a thing for fries and desserts, it's crazy.) and places her left elbow on the table, with her chin resting on her palm. Obviously waiting for a long rambly explanation.

"He's an actor." Armie doesn't reveal its Timothee fucking Chalamet, the Oscar nominee, fucking prodigy actor, "and I watched one of his movies. He was…" he feels himself flushing, turning a bright red, "really sexy in it. Now, I've always known I was bisexual but I never saw it coming – I didn't think I could be attracted to him. And then – totally unrelated – I separated from my wife and suddenly it was…"

"A possibility?"

"No...I don't know. I met him again. Just him. And I felt exactly the way you feel – with Damrosch. We ended up talking the whole night and he wanted to stay in touch but it freaked me out so I just ran and ignored him for months."

"I don't know about you but if you feel the way that I do about David then you won't regret making a move."

"Dakota, I…"

"It's really fucking simple Armie. You don't meet that many people in your life who you have a genuine connection with, forget romantic connections. Don't...don't let people get away. All your life you'll regret not trying."

Armie stays silent. He knows how rare it is to have what they had that night. Still wonders if Timmy is like that with everyone or it was a moment of weakness.  _ Or _ they simply clicked – took years to be finally alone in a room with him and have all their walls down. The pull was so strong that night. The morning was worse though, it brought forth a possibility(fuck Dakota for that word) that terrified him.

"You don't have to think about it right now. I am just giving my example. I have not stopped trying. One day he's gonna have to take me seriously."

Feeling lightheaded by discussing Timmy, Armie finds this the perfect opportunity to deflect the attention, "And have you seriously confessed to him?"

Armie catches the defense in her eyes already backed up. She pauses and her eyes widen, she snorts and mumbles, "Of course, I have. I mean, it's obvious that I like him. That's why he sent you for me."

"So you haven't really said it."

"Armie, I have. Just not over dramatically like I told you today. And to be fair, I am quite high so…"

"Practice what you preach, Miss Johnson. Don't want the man being snatched away from you by some Ph.D. student."

"No! No, no, no. That can't happen."

"It won't happen." Armie winks and takes another hit.  


* * *

When he is back home, Armie gets a message from Tim. They have been talking infrequently and it always leaves him wanting for more. He doesn't understand this infatuation. Doesn't understand Timmy.

Timmy is weirdly cryptic in nature. The last message from him sounds like Shakespeare to Armie. He does a quick search and finds yes, its Shakespeare's Hamlet. About Opehlia – Hamlet's lover who allegdly drowned herself in a trance of madness and heartbreak.

_ Timmy : Her death was doubtful, _

_ And, but that great command o’ersways the order, _

_ She should in ground unsanctified been lodged _

_ Till the last trumpet. _

Fuck. He's in a hurry and in a state of panic. Armie makes up his decision at once and presses on the call button.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!! I had something urgent that kept me on Saturday and I just did not have time and energy to post the new chapter. I will be trying to go back to the schedule. Not sure if I can update again this weekend but I'll try.
> 
> Another thing — I think a lot of people missed the Ophelia reference 😅 but that's fine
> 
> Some more references in the chapter — the Ophelia robot story mentioned by Tim is an actual thing. But it's not a play, it's an episode from an anime 'Ergo proxy'.
> 
> At the end, Armie mentions the movie Carol where a lesbian couple(one much older than the other one) travel together.
> 
> The last quote is a beautiful one from Li Xun.

  
Time slows down - he’s not sure if it’s the effect of the drugs or something else. Timmy doesn’t pick up the on the first ring, not on the second, not on the third - and oh fuck Armie is spiralling.

Ophelia, Ophelia, Ophelia.

Armie can only imagine the worst - a cold coffin filled with water. Loneliness, heartache, and madness leading to tragedy. Timmy doesn’t pick up on the first try and Armie tries to stir his mind away - he looks around his room and finds the old typewriter that Marc gifted him on his birthday. He dials again hoping Timmy will pick up. His mind races back to the memory from four years ago.

_ Timmy looks a mix of jealous and pouty - He was tired of watching Armie slowly make his way into the family. Couldn’t help but feel inadequate in front of the man who seemed perfect. Marc gave him an expensive typewriter as a gift for his birthday as well as promotion. Armie couldn’t be more humble about it(Timmy doesn’t know if he’s faking it, if he is then god damn he is a better actor than Pauline).  _

_ When everyone scatters around the room - Pauline sprawled on the sofa, Marc making a call and Nicole sipping wine in the kitchen - Timmy finds himself with Armie. He’s out on the balcony smoking - Mom doesn’t approve so he always steps out. Timmy makes sure to shut the door behind him and watches as Armie’s eyes go wide for a second, a question in them before masking it with disinterest. The sound of the click makes it final - they are alone for the first time ever. _

_ “So how do you like your present? Your instrument of calling.” Timmy can’t help but feel extremely childish around the man. Can’t help but lower his voice and change his posture. _

_ Armie doesn’t even look at him. _

_ “I don’t know what I did to deserve it. I am not a writer. Not even a translator if you will.” he stubbs the cigarette butt in one of the pots, with a smile on his face he adds, “Don’t tell your mom.” _

_ Timmy rolls his eyes - Armie again making him feel like a kid. He’s not. _

_ “I won’t asshole.”  _

_ Armie’s eyes light up at the comment. He finally focuses his complete attention on Timmy, “My instrument of calling, huh? What do you want for your birthday champ?” _

_ Timmy blushes, “I don’t want anything. And isn’t it your job to decide on a gift if you're giving I mean.” He scratches the back of his neck - a nervous habit that frequently slips into his roles. _

_ “Hmm… Your instrument of calling…” His eyes go soft as he assesses Timmy, “I can’t give you a script. Can’t give you a stage!” He laughs and looks deep in thought. “Hmm, Let me get back to you on that -it's an interesting question.” _

Armie tries to focus on the present but he can’t help but think how he hasn’t gifted Timmy his instrument. How that year he got him a rap album and the next just a quick hug at a small get together. 

The ringing stops and this time, Timmy picks up the call. 

“Armie?” A sleepy Timmy answers on the other side.

“Hey, hi Tim.” he breathes a sigh of relief and tries to control the panic in his voice.

“Why did you call? It’s late…”

“I saw your text about Ophelia…”

“Ophelia? Oh right.” Armie hears him rustling and feels bad for waking him up. Fuck, Timmy sounds okay, “Yeah, I went to see a play today. Focused on Ophelia but with a twist - Ophelia is a futuristic robot who wasn’t accepted in the society and due to loneliness went insane - She drowned the whole city in a river and then felt more lonely and out of control - now that everyone was gone.”

“Oh, that sounds interesting…” So he wasn't thinking what Armie was thinking - Armie completely blew it out of proportion and being high as fuck called Timmy the first chance he could. He should have known - Timmy is anything but irresponsible. The kid is more emotionally mature than Armie.

“Yeah and then she just wanted to kill herself but couldn’t. Whenever someone entered the ghost city, she manipulated them to come to the river and either drown themselves or try to kill her. It was absolutely crazy. I loved it.”.

“Right. Yeah, that sounds intense.” 

“Are you okay, Armie?”

“No, I am high as fuck.”

He hears a wonderful laugh and something else -  _ someone else _ . In the background of the call, he hears a feminine grunt and some shuffling. It must be late on the other side and Timmy has someone in his bed.

_ Timmy has someone in his bed. _

And what the fuck was Armie thinking? For a second he got comfortable - Timmy’s rambling pulling him away from all the uncertainties. The more he focuses on the background, the more he regrets calling. Fuck he should have known better - What was he expecting? A heart to heart from Timmy? Confessing his own tumultuous feelings?

“Funny, I want to see you being high.” 

Armie hears a distinct -  _ Who is it _ ? Timmy moves out of the room.

“Sorry, Tim. I disturbed you - I saw your message late and I just...thought I’ll give you a call.”

“That's fine Armie. Don’t worry about it. I actually wanted to talk to you… I am coming back to New York in late August. I think just in time for your birthday. Maybe we can meet?”

“Yeah...sure.” He nods even though Timmy can’t see him. Armie resists the urge to lay in his bed - it doesn’t feel appropriate. He chooses to pace around the room - noticing the empty spaces he should have filled by now.

They stay up another hour discussing everything - Timmy’s role, his haircut, and Armie’s new project. Not once Timmy mentions dating someone - Armie wants to say fuck it but can’t bring himself, Timmy has been so gracious talking to him. He sounds genuinely interested in Armie’s life and sounds excited about his own movie. Armie has never been the one to have control over his mouth - he almost babbles his own feelings but the thought of that someone stops him.

He doesn’t get much sleep after calling it a night. Armie hopes the next morning he wakes up and forgets this feeling of loneliness - the unexpected emptiness he feels in his heart and home. The next day, he goes through a churn of routine that doesn’t settle his heart. The sun is bright outside but for some reason, he feels a dark cloud prevailing in the sky - rain and thunderstorm inside his mind. It's Ophelia’s ghost that has started haunting him.

For the next few days, Armie does what he does best - ignores everyone. Works and works. And begins to analyse his undesirability, the few years he has before his body gives out and his mind shuts people out. The thought that nobody will want him, the thought that he will walk in a room full of people and have no one initiate a conversation, have no interest in him – is jarring, to say the least.

Nick slaps him and asks him to get over it. Dakota hands him a card for a therapist.

“I don’t need a therapist.”

“Yeah I know.” She chirps and gets back to her drink.

“I really don’t”

“You were this close to calling your ex.” she flattens the straw in her hand and points to the non-existing gap.

Armie rolls his eyes and doesn’t add anything.

* * *

He meets Dakota frequently because if not she would have his head. It's a plus that all she wants to discuss is the professor. 

"David asked us to have dinner with him. I think he'll text you soon enough."

“Dinner? Us?”

“Yes. Why are you so surprised?”

“No, I just don’t understand the point. I mean both of us have very different relationships with him and …”

“And what kind of relationship you mean dumbass. I am not dating him. It's perfectly agreeable to have dinner with him.”

“Okay…”

“Stop pouting. You have to meet people outside this small circle you have.”

“I know, I know. That's what the therapist said. And yes, I did go.”

He booked a session expecting nothing. When the therapist - Mr. Gupta asked why he was here, he had no specific answer. He went into the session with full charm and faux confidence. He was the biggest idiot to lie in front of an experienced therapist - Mr. Gupta called him out and then he had no option but to be honest. Somewhere along speaking his heart out, his voice broke, his eyes felt stinging - He wasn’t dealing with much - he told himself and Mr. Gupta. Armie mentioned how most of the days he isn't sure what he’s feeling - at once he’s overwhelmed and then he’s numb all over. Can’t think of reasons why he’s agitated.

Mr. Gupta heard him over the sessions - Armie didn’t know he needed someone to listen. And after two sessions, suggested to him - “You need to declutter your emotions. All your anguish and insecurities overwhelm you at once - all jumbled up together with no clear solution in sight. Think of your life as a mess of threads only you have control over - the more you ignore it, the more it entangles and the more you stumble over it. Now, it takes time to pick each one out and detangle it from the rest. And it's a lifelong job - when you need help I am here.”

Armie goes out of the session feeling much lighter than before. Over the period of time, he also mentions his loneliness and his habit of getting in his own head. Mr. Gupta advises him to find something other than gym - something that has a community that he can get behind, something that will keep him occupied but also lead to potential interactions with others. 

“You can’t let the loneliness fester. Once it grows, it doesn’t go away. People have an awful habit of seeking it out after it prevails.”

Armie doesn't notice the days passing by. August almost ends.

He’s sitting on his new desk(made of beautiful sheesham wood), pouring his feelings over the typewriter, relishing in the rain outside. Every once in a while he shares a grin with his reflection and his thoughts start going awry. He starts writing about a boy in love with a man - a winter getaway like in  _ Carol _ . He imagines himself and another boy, the one with luscious brown curls, the one with the red nose and the red sweater. The snow stuck in his hair, in his eyelashes - Armie feels himself melting. 

For now, he doesn’t mind what the next day brings. As the famous Chinese author,  _ Li Xun  _ said, “Hope is for the future.”


	9. Chapter 9

Timmy arrives in New York shortly after his birthday. Armie spent it with Nick and Dakota who barely tolerated each other - their personalities so polar apart Armie wondered how he’s friends with both. While Nick went with a watch, Dakota gifted him a book for his birthday - 

“Thousand and one nights. Translated by Sir Burton.”

“I can’t believe you brought me this!”

“You need all the sex you can get. C’mon humor me. There are also footnotes detailing the scenes and all.”

“Shut up, please.” He laughs, going red at the suggestion.

“It’s early 20th-century fanfiction. You will enjoy it.”

“Okay, I will. Thanks” He rubs his beard, making his face more flushed and red.

Dakota leaves the next day - going to meet her mother. Armie asks if she waited just for his birthday and he doesn’t expect the reaction - she blushes furiously and denies in her soft voice. Once again Armie can’t help but wonder if they would have been a good match if they weren’t so emotionally unavailable. 

Armie gets a call from Timmy the day he arrives. The call is short (and not fulfilling if Armie’s being honest) - Timmy announces they’ll hang out together and then back paddles self-consciously, adding if Armie wants to. They decide on the date and the time (it's a weekday but Armie is sure he can make some time) - Timmy seems to have planned it all. Armie can’t help but be fucking excited about the meetup - he has missed Timmy, missed seeing his face.

On the decided day, Armie cancels all his work. He knows its stupid but Timmy does not have that much time and Armie does not have someone to spend his leaves on. He wakes up early and just screams at himself for being so paranoid and so over-the-top. He’s acting like a kid ready to meet Santa on Christmas Eve - It’s fucking pathetic. 

He showers and shaves - puts on cologne and wears the t-shirt that perfectly kisses his body. He puts on jeans to make his legs look good and not overly skinny for his long frame. He’s ready before an hour of their decided time and now he doesn’t have anything to do. He’s tempted to call Timmy but he doesn’t wanna seem desperate - so he calls Dakota. She picks up on the second ring,

“What's up?”

“Oh...I thought you wouldn’t even pick up. You were busy with your mom?”

“Oh no. it's not much - she organized this small party for her boyfriend’s birthday today. We spent all of yesterday together so...yeah...we can talk.”

“You sure? If its a party…”

“Yes, Armie, we can talk.” Armie can hear her rolling her eyes and flipping her fringe - it makes him smile, “Anyway my mom is trying to get me to talk to this very nice _young_ man so I’ll talk to you instead.”

“You told her about pro?”

“Yeah. she’s scandalized. Asked if he made a move on me or if he was inappropriate - acting predatory. I told her I am not eighteen she doesn’t have to be worried about predatory behavior.”

“Right…”

“This guy she introduced me to, keeps following me around. I don’t remember his name but we can call him Mr. Golf. I tried to piss him off by pronouncing Golf as _jolf_ but it only worked for a while - he stopped listening to me and started staring at my tits - I really don’t understand how men can do that. Be completely self-absorbed and fucking gross!”

“Yeah I don’t understand - wait you told him it was Jolf?”

“Yeah you should have watched his reaction - he went ballistic trying to educate me! And I was giving him examples of genuine and gif.”

“Oh I remember doing something like this - someone I met at a conference was wearing a Harvard hoodie and I completely went off. I claimed I didn’t know about Harvard and he went red with anger. It was so funny.”

“Oh Harvard is bullshit - I mean so many fucking lies -”

“Oh be careful, maybe some alumnus is behind you!”

“Well, he’ll get a piece of my mind then.” She laughs and Armie feels at ease - it's so easy talking to her. In the background, he hears a faint song playing - _Maybe you’re the reason by the Japanese House_. Dakota’s laugh dies down and they’re silent for a second, Armie focuses on the song and says, “So I took a day off.”

“Why? Are you okay?”

He smiles - he’s glad she worries, “Timmy is coming back and he wanted to meet-up and … I don’t know … I just wanted to spend some time with him so I took the whole day off.”

“Oh, I need to meet this Timmy. He has you wrapped around his finger!”

“Well, Have you heard about the movie _Call me by your name_?”

“Yeah, My sister’s obsessed with that movie and that kid who looks like Freddy Highmore.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yeah, I have told you about this - “

“Who is Freddy Highmore?!”

“Armie, please the fucking point.”

“It's him.”

He hears the awkward silence and the realization. He hears her shuffle the phone in her hands - maybe she’s googling Timmy - oh yeah she’s definitely googling him.

“Are you done, Dakota?”

“Yeah.” She sounds dejected for a second - Armie can’t understand why, “Wow, you’ve really chosen the next teen heartthrob.”

“I don’t know about that -”

“My twenty-year-old sister has his poster in her room.”

“Your sister is twenty?”

“Armie!”

“Sorry, I know, I know. Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know - maybe I am overreacting. I don’t know why I am overreacting.” 

Shit. Armie can’t fucking untangle this mess of a conversation but he has a feeling this is all going wrong. He wants to make some excuse but Dakota beats him to it - she tells him she has to help her mom prepare drinks and she has to let him go. The conversation ends abruptly and Armie has a weird intuition that Dakota was jealous - which doesn’t make any sense.

* * *

They are supposed to meet at Armie’s favorite steakhouse (Timmy’s suggestion) and Timmy is late. It’s not something unexpected but Armie feels himself getting more and more anxious. On the outside he’s sure he paints a picture of a confident man sitting comfortably, with his back straight, his hands folded on the table. He has always been good at pretending. Out of habit, he starts rubbing the tattoo on his wrist - his thoughts spiral down another path - maybe he should get a new tattoo. What could it be? Maybe something that represents his life right now. Something that is important to him. And what is that exactly?

Lost in his thought, he doesn’t notice Timmy coming. It’s only when he hears the scrapping of the chair and the familiar voice apologizing at a rapid rate. And oh fuck - Armie is so not ready for this. He definitely isn’t ready to see Timmy being here - in all black outfit, hands full of thin bracelets, hair covered with a dumb hat that doesn’t do anything to hide that beautiful smile. 

“Hi!” 

Shit. 

* * *

Somehow he makes it to the first few minutes without making a fool of himself. Or so he thinks. Timmy is biting his lips to contain his smile. While he sits, Armie goes up for a hug and it's only awkward for a second. Armie notices the size difference once again - Timmy is so fucking small in his arms, he’s nuzzling Armie’s neck, placing his head on Armie’s shoulder, joining hands behind his back - he fits perfectly with Armie. 

There’s a deep sigh from both of them - having been months apart and only thinking of the other, they are relieved to have each other again. Armie decides he will be the first one to let go but of course he can’t! Timmy pats him on the back lightly, knocks his head on Armie’s chest, and then let's go.

And here he was thinking that this boy couldn’t affect him anymore.

His world is once again shifted from its axis. His whole being revolves around Timmy.

"Nice haircut." Armie points to the bowlcut.

"Oh no, please don't. We will not be talking about this."

"Okay okay." Armie laughs and sits down. Pleasantly buzzed even though he hasn't gotten a single drop of alcohol in his system.

“I am sorry I missed your birthday. I swear I was gonna make it but there were last minute meetings and I just couldn't.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t worry about that. I didn’t expect you to leave everything and it was only a birthday!” 

And it was only a birthday. Never in the past Timmy or Armie bothered to do much. Only a wish over a call or a text was enough - it’s funny how things change. So it comes as a surprise when Timmy pops out a present.

"Timmy, you didn't have to."

"No, listen. I was hanging out in Paris with Pauline. There's this bookstore called _Shakespeare and company_ …"

"Yeah, I know about that!"

"Of course you do." Timmy rolls his eyes fondly, "So we were in the bookshop for more than two hours or so because Pauline and I couldn't decide on which book to buy. And because I couldn't find the perfect one for you."

Armie shifts in his seat. His heart fluttering in his chest. He can imagine Timmy fumbling with books to find something just right for him.

"And then I met this guy."

"Oh?" 

"Who was basically British but living in Paris because he wanted to be a writer. He wanted to be there because all his favorite writers were from Paris. He told me how he was managing to live by but he wanted to fulfill his dreams and it was ok. And I don't know why but he reminded me of you. He guided me to a book I had read before" Timmy pushes the wrapped gift in his hands and bites his lips.

"So how did you decide?" Armie carefully unwraps the present. His heart beating in his chest.

"It was weird. Like seeing young Armie even though we hadn't met when you were that young...I am sorry that doesn't make any sense." He laughs consciously. Trying and failing to hide the blush. Armie is speechless for a second. He never knew Timmy thought of him like that. 

The Book of Disquiet.

There's a sticky note on top which reads —

"I never tried to be anything but a dreamer. I never paid any attention to people who told me to go out and live. I belonged always to whatever was far from me and whatever I could never be. Anything that was not mine, however base, always seemed to be full of poetry. I only ever desired what was beyond my imaginings."

There's a full minute when he doesn't speak. Nor does Timmy. Armie gets lost in the words and the sudden love he feels for Timmy. He reads them over and over again – finds himself engulfed in the words because they're true. Finds himself playing with the pages, not daring to skim over the words because he's not ready. Just not. 

With a lump in his throat, Armie looks up and says, "Thank you. Really." His voice sounds gruff. Like he hasn't used in millennia, "I can picture myself there. In the bookshop. With you."

Timmy twists his mouth and smiles. A foreign sense of nostalgia settles over them — something that never happened but can be pictured so clearly.

"Armie. At that moment, I felt like I've always known you. It was...yeah." He drops his head and starts playing with the menu card – having completely forgotten they were in a restaurant full of people. He has a sudden urge to touch Armie, to do something that closes the distance between them. It feels like torture.

Armie for once watches Timmy fidgeting and decides to sit next to him. He envelops him in a hug and allows his own feelings to pour out. Every touch – his hand on Timmy's back, Timmy's hand on his bicep – it feels like fire. He removes the hat and carefully pulls Timmy onto his chest to hide him away from the world. They can stay in their bubble however long they want.

_TBC_


	10. Chapter 10

Armie pulls away after a while, getting fidgety and awkward. He’s not one to physically showcase, not so affectionate as Timmy. Timmy laughs and let's go. Armie stays close and they move on to lighter topics - catching up on their lives. 

Armie doesn’t want to pry but he wants to know who Timmy is dating. It’s sitting in the back of his mind but he doesn’t know how to bring it up without sounding nosy. Another thing that he finds himself struggling with is their obvious age difference - he’s hyper-aware of it now that Timmy is in front of him, he really looks five years younger than his age. While Timmy animatedly tells a story, Armie feels torn in two - controlling his fond face and adjusting his shirt, his hair, looking at his reflection in the window to somehow control his appearance. 

It’s worse when Timmy listens to him - God he’s such a good listener, with the kindest eyes and the beautiful half-lidded gaze. Armie tries to focus somewhere else but his eyes are stuck on Timmy. And there’s a spell where they’re both staring into their eyes as Armie tells a mundane story on autopilot. After a while, it subsides - the insecurity and the awkwardness dulled down to a hum in the back of his mind.

In a room full of people as background noise, Armie recognizes this feeling. He’s always been over-analytical of everything - the reports he received on his table, the translation documents he had to pass over, the introduction speech he had to prepare, his handwriting, his kitchen, the dishes he prepared, people’s feelings, his own feelings. Everything. How he felt when he was away from Timmy after being in such close proximity, having newfound intimacy - Armie concluded he was infatuated - the kind that stayed and grew when apart. Allowing fantasies and expectations to cultivate. But that diagnosis shattered when he saw Timmy after months, touched him after so long, heard his voice - not over the static but directly in front of him. It’s not the first time he’s feeling this way - he’s falling in love.

“I heard her say - If a crush stays longer than four months then its love.”

“Heard who?” Armie blinks and tries to remember where they left off the conversation.

“Pauline? She’s thinking of proposing to this guy.”

“Right, and they’ve been together for four months?”

“Yeah. What do you think?”

“Does it matter what I think?”

“Of course it does.”

Armie doesn’t know what to say to that so he responds to the question, “It’s possible to fall in love in four months - I don’t know about making the decision to stay together for the rest of your life.”

“Hmm, makes sense. Though what could be the difference between love and infatuation - how do you decide?”

That shouldn’t be possible - Timmy reading minds. No way he read what Armie was thinking just moments ago. Armie shifts in his seat and tries to think, “Huh. Don’t know why you think I can answer that.”

“Why not? You’re well-read and much older.” His eyes are sparkling and that's the Timmy Armie likes best.

“Yeah okay. A lot of the times it's just infatuation - usually with someone who seems more interesting than oneself. Someone who feels like they can make life much more happening by just being in it... Just something that you and I are lacking. Maybe it's fun, maybe it’s stability, maybe it’s the promise of bringing something to this listless mundane life. I don’t know, a lot of times I’ve seen people chase each other for momentary thrills, short-term intimacy, undivided attention - liking someone just for the sake of liking them.“

They are silent for a moment - Armie not having anything to say and Timmy contemplating what Armie just said.

“What do you think?” Armie asks quietly, sensing Timmy being lost in his thoughts, “What do you think about love?”

“I don’t think I can add anything valuable.”

“Does it matter what I say - Of course, it does.” Armie parrots Timmy’s words back to him. Timmy laughs at the comment and shakes his head. He seems to formulate his thoughts, while playing with his necklace.

“For me - It’s feeling comfortable and safe with someone else. I don’t...know much about being in love. I can’t say for sure but I know how _I_ feel when I am around people I love.”

Armie watches him for a moment and it’s so, so beautiful to have a glimpse at what Timmy’s thinking. To watch it process in his mind, have it translated out through his body. A fulfilling experience - Armie feels so lucky to be in his presence.

And for a moment it’s easier to separate himself from what Timmy’s saying - the people he loves. Up until Timmy looks up and Armie sees him shy away - It can’t possibly be. And even if he meant it, Timmy would have thought of Armie as a big brother. Timmy’s behavior has never suggested anything more than platonic feelings towards Armie. So he is more than flattered to have Timmy in his life and to have someone who makes him feel loved in small but significant ways - he looks at the book neatly tucked away on the table and sighs.

The afternoon slowly rolls away and Armie feels timeless. Hours pass by and the only company they feel is the sun and the chilled coffee after coffee. The background noise of the people chatting away, the AC lightly whirring, the clinking of forks and glasses - everything is welcomed. They haven’t done this before but Armie has a sense of deep nostalgia when he’s with Timmy - and really the thing Timmy mentioned earlier makes sense - It always settled over him like snow falling from the sky, covering his whole being, tender and soft, making the world around him slow down - but he couldn’t name it. Can’t say he understands it. 

For now, he just doesn’t wanna brush it away. 

Without meaning to, Armie asks Timmy, “Have you ever felt a certain way somewhere, like Time doesn’t exist, like there’s no string of past and future. Sometimes just by yourself, sometimes with someone else. And it’s more precious when it’s with someone else.”

Timmy smiles a bashful understanding smile, “Yeah. I get what you mean. I…” he tries to capture his thoughts. Armie can see him struggling - shrugging and smiling - looking into the distance and using his hands all over his upper body, “When I am at the airport all by myself. Or Eating at an almost empty restaurant somewhere in Europe at the edge of dusk. Or Watching the skyline from a room while I talk to someone”, Timmy tilts his head to indicate that someone might be Armie, “And when I am having a nice conversation on a weekday so the streets are empty and the sun is up and I don’t have to worry about being cold. I don’t feel like the morning happened, I don’t care about plans for the night or the next day - It feels awesome to just...to be suspended in a moment. It's nice.”

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

Is that how it feels like when you’re on the same wavelength as someone else. When you are in sync, when you’re being understood and not brushed off. When it doesn’t feel like relationships - of any kind - are meaningless, when all you want is someone’s eyes on you, to hear them talk, just talk and nothing else.

It’s too precious to let go - Armie wants to capture this moment, this feeling, and take it away in a bottle.

In the end, they have to leave, they are sitting there for too long and the receptionist is giving them too many hints to empty the seats as the traffic in the restaurant increases. Armie has been in New York for a long time but his idea of hang-out spots is somewhat different than Timmy. He’s perfectly fitted himself in the mold of an intellectual - going to the museum, art galleries, gallas, and what-not. Even though his taste in music is very vast and he himself plays a lot of instruments - he doesn’t know New York's scene for music. And of course, Timmy does, Armie can’t miss the chance to tease him about his rap persona,

“Is the club you performed when you were young, huh, Timmy T?”

“Shut up.” Timmy rolls his eyes and navigates him through the street to the bar where new and budding artists perform, “It's gonna be great you see. You will feel young again.”

“Oh fuck you Tim. fuck you.” he laughs and allows Timmy to take the lead.

When they arrive, the crowd is already there - the bar is packed and the band is on their second song. For a while they just stand there side by side because there are no seats available - Timmy is on the lookout for seats, apologizing every so often about Armie standing here. Past another song, Armie feels someone’s eyes on them. He suddenly remembers he’s standing next to Timmy - Timothee Chalamet for the world - and if someone were to recognise him then they’ll sure have trouble on their hands. Discreetly he looks around the room to catch someone staring - and sure enough a girl is looking at them. She’s tall and pretty - she has a smug smile on her face. Armie looks down, tries to think of an escape plan if Timmy’s cover blows up. 

Noticing Armie being distracted, Timmy looks in the direction of his gaze and catches a girl eyeing Armie. She’s not hiding her interest and it seems Armie has caught her stare because he’s looking down, acting all bashful. 

Irritation crawls up his throat. He drowns it using the drink in his hand that they brought earlier.

“You should talk to her.”

“What? I can’t hear you.”

Timmy rolls his eyes and leans closer to whisper in Armie’s ear, “You should talk to her.”

Armie feels light headed when Timmy steps into his space, so close to his face.

“Who? That girl?”

Timmy nods as to say yes.

“Why she’s been eyeing you and I have been waiting for her to get her phone out.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” The anger is unexpected. Timmy does not want Armie to play dumb in front of him. Why is he acting like he’s not desirable - when it’s obvious the girl wants him. Possibly everyone in the room is thinking about him. Timmy feels sick to his stomach.

“I am not...what are you talking about?”

At the exact moment, the brunette girl makes her move. She travels past the crowd to get to Armie. Timmy faces away from him and watches her come closer. 

"Have people forgotten how to read a room?"

"Why are you so angry? Did I do something?"

Timmy sighs, bitterness leaves his body at Armie's warm tone, "You didn't do anything wrong...I just..."

"Hi, I am Amanda. I've been noticing you for so long." 

"Umm, I am sorry?"

Timmy pushes his hat down and turns away, he thinks to himself – the man can't be this unaware. Another minute goes by when Armie finally understands her motives. He turns her down and she graciously moves back to her friends. Behind him, he glances at Timmy who looks tense as fuck. His hands around his torso, head down, just nodding along to the music.

"Timmy?" He doesn't hear him at once so Armie calls him again.

"Hmm? Yeah?"

"Let's go somewhere else. I think I have had enough of the music."

"Oh okay. Sure."

Once they are outside, Armie tries to talk to Timmy who has a permanent frown etched on his face. They walk aimlessly outside before deciding to eat dinner - from a food truck (Armie’s idea) while sitting on a bench. Timmy tries to push down the jealousy that sprung on him and attempts to act normal, all while Armie wonders how to breach the topic of the girl hitting on him. He thinks maybe Tim was jealous of Armie receiving attention from the girl. It’s a vicious cycle of misunderstanding that they can’t seem to get out of.

“Sorry you have to eat this crap. I am sure you have liked some restaurants. We could have gone…”

“Armie I am not some…”

“Celebrity?”

“I am not.” Timmy rolls his eyes.

“You roll your eyes a lot, notice that? Anyway you are a celebrity, teen heartthrob if I may add.”

And fuck Dakota definietly popped in his head. He hopes Timmy doesn’t take offense on the comment. He’s already backtracking when Timmy adds, “Call me anything you want but in a room full of people, everyone will be looking at you.”

“And you don’t like that. Why?” Armie senses something else in his tone. Dares to hope.

“Wow you’re a narcissist if you agree to that.”

“I didn’t agree, I was just asking why you were angry...”

Now Timmy is laughing, having effectively deflected the conversation, “I can’t believe you are a narcissist Armie. I mean this is brand new information.”

“I am not.”

“Denial!”

“Finish your food, Timmy.” 

The night doesn’t end for them there. Timmy insists on staying out, even suggests going dancing which Armie denies, mentioning his bad moves, his long legs and awkward body. He doesn’t want to make a fool of himself on the dancefloor - he only does it when he’s completely drunk and wasted, which he is not aiming for tonight.

“Then we should totally go - it will be a challenge for you.”

  
Armie sighs, “Tim. I don’t want to.”

Timmy chants a mantra of ‘please, Armie’ and Armie reluctantly agrees. They walk to a nightclub Timmy frequents and talk more about Armie’s dance moves.

“I do know how to moonwalk.”

“See, that's impressive and it's a start - you can dance.”

“Ahh, please. Everyone can dance, I just do badly and all on my own.”

“Hmm...have you ever been to a club all alone? Just to dance?”

“No...I have picked someone up but never did that…”

“Huh. I haven’t either. Always went dancing with my friends, never alone.”

“Kind of like going to the movies alone?” 

“Yeah, exactly.” Timmy smiles at the parallel and when they reach the nightclub he decides something, “We can try it out.”

Armie looks down at him and confusedly asks, “What?”

“We can try dancing all by ourselves but with a whole crowd around us. Just for fifteen minutes or so.”

“And where will the other be?”

“Outside?”

“Timmy, you’re asking me or telling me?”

Timmy looks around the corner and finds a petite looking bookstore just across the road. He smiles to himself, already liking the idea, “We would go inside one by one. Dance till our fifteen minutes are up while the other is outside, maybe hanging out in a bookstore - I am sure you’ll like that part - and then we can decide what to do after that. More dancing or just go home.”

“Dancing while we are not drunk?”

“Yeah, that goes without saying. We won’t go to the bar, have nothing to drink. Also we won’t entertain anyone flirting with us in any way - We just have to dance. All by ourselves.”

“That's absurd. No way I am doing that.”

“Come on Armie, Come on!” 

Resistance is futile - Armie knows he’s going to agree, it’s fucking Timmy. Timmy who’s giving him the puppy dog eyes, Timmy who seems excited about Armie tackling his dance-phobia, Timmy who thinks this is some brilliant plan he has come up with, Timmy who enjoys little things in life - like dancing, singing, walking around the city. He can indulge him once just for that smile.

“Okay fine.” He tries acting exasperated but who is he kidding - he’s smiling and looking forward to savor Timmy’s reaction after he has completed his dumb task. For once, he will have to suck up his awkwardness and dance - it’s a plus that Timmy won’t be watching him. 

“So you will be waiting there?” He points to the bookstore. 

“Yup!” He nods excitedly, "you can leave your book with me. I'll grab some paper bag to carry this around."

“Alright, then I will go inside.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He stays stuck on his feet.

“Armie?”

“Fine. I am going. Here goes Nothing!” He moonwalks all the way back - smiling at Timmy who lights up like a Christmas tree before turning around and facing the music. Literally.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for hanging onto this story!!! I know I haven't followed the schedule for a while. Sorry about that.   
> And I really really appreciate your comments, they make my day ❤❤

The blaring sound can be heard outside. Armie tries to soak up the cool air before entering. Everything is overwhelming all at once - the people outside, the chatter, the loud music. It’s not his scene. Not anymore.

He steps inside the door and is already being jabbed here and there by people half his size. He feels eyes on him - but he can’t run away, can’t hide in the corner with his fucking height. The music hits him first - loud, loud, and loud. The lights hit him second - darkness for a second then flashes of blue and purple thrust directly in his eyes. There’s sweat in the air, he can smell booze from the person next to him - all of it pushes him towards the bar before he stops himself. 

He’s not gonna lie - the urge is there to dance. The music, the songs are exactly made for it. He feels himself nodding along, standing in a corner. Fuck, he should stop wasting time. 

Stepping inside the circle seems like the best choice - he can’t be dancing on the periphery. He moves along and gets some attention - the closer to the center, the hornier the people are - maybe it’s a bad choice. Deep in the jungle, he finds space. The people are wrapped up around each other and for a moment, leave him alone. He starts to move his feet. Flail around, push his chest out, roll his shoulders (as much as he can). Swaying on the spot is not an option - not that kind of music.

The song changes and it’s something he knows - and fuck if that doesn’t feel good. He laughs and swears, is glad the music drowns it out. Someone comes up behind him with a hand on his shoulder - a girl in a little black dress. He turns around and dismisses her - mouthing a quick sorry. She doesn’t wait long enough to get another prey. Damn! It’s really like a jungle.

Song after song - Armie becomes one with the music. His heart beating to the rhythm, his eyes closed and his mind hazy. Jumping every once in a while on the spot.

The fourth hand of the night comes upon his shoulder - and honestly can’t people take a hint? He turns around, ready to give them a piece of his mind when he catches the unforgivable stupid hat pulled backwards. 

Timmy.

“How much did you drink?”

Timmy steps in his space to whisper-shouts in his ear. And God, isn’t this what fantasies are made of? Meeting on the dance floor, dirty dancing, humping along with the music, wild drunk sex after a tension-filled car ride. Maybe even an awkward yet cute morning after.

“I didn’t.”

Armie pulls away the hat. Laughing in his face.

“Stop! Someone will recognise me.”

“Trust me, sweetheart. No one is going to recognize you without your curls.”

He feels free in the moment. Less burdened. Younger. Like the version of him years ago in the Chalamet house, laughing with Timmy, teasing him, having a wine or two with Nicole, learning french from Pauline and listening to Marc talk. He misses it all and for a moment - he travels back in time to his old self. Dancing some more they leave the club, walking side by side in the streets. Armie doesn’t know where the path will lead - feels like walking the streets of 2014. Doesn’t know where home is.

“You’re so sweaty”

“Haha. yeah, I stink.”

“We were supposed to take turns but you stayed so long.”

“Sorry I lost track of time.”

The October breeze cools his skin, he skims his fingers through his hair. Timmy beside him has lost his hat somewhere - it's so unusual – to see him like this. With a fucking bowl-cut. His long pale neck is a spectacle - with the moles full-on display, the barely-there necklace which looks like it will slip down his shirt any moment. Armie can’t help but sneak a peek once in a while. All those years ago, he always turned away from Timmy’s beauty, kept his eyes to himself, never allowing them to linger. 

It’s driving him crazy now.

They mindlessly walk back to Armie’s apartment around 2 o'clock in the morning and Armie knows he has to take another leave tomorrow - well at least it’s Friday. Armie wants to ask where he wants to stay. If he wants to spend the night with him - and fuck phrase it better so it doesn’t sound like he wants to sleep with him. Timmy beats him to the question.

“Mind if I stay here tonight. I kind of had a fight with mom and I don’t wanna go back to my apartment this time of the night.”

“You know I don’t mind. But why are you fighting with your mom?”

It leaves his mouth before he can think twice. Timmy and his mom, their relationship - Armie has no business in their matters. 

“She thinks I am too ambitious.”

“Oh.”

“I mean...I do push myself a lot. You know the movie,  _ beautiful boy _ .”

“Is that it?”

“No,” Timmy laughs and subconsciously scratches his scalps, then places his hand on his neck, “I agreed to do some stupid shit for PR and she told me she was disappointed in me.”

“Timmy.” He can’t do much but rub his shoulders, squeeze his arms, “I am sure she said it in anger. She doesn’t mean it.”

“No. She meant it.”

Armie allows him a moment of privacy. He knows from experience that sometimes people say things just to be heard. They don’t want advice, don’t want validation - sometimes being listened to is enough.

“She also berates me for not being home enough - but I can’t help it. It’s my job.” His eyes clear a bit from the earlier dejection and he sighs, “She doesn’t know how much I miss being home. We are close - I swear but she doesn’t get it.”

“Maybe you’re not explaining it to her. Maybe you just expect her to know?”

“That...that makes sense. I don’t want her to think I don’t miss being home. Home is all I think about when I travel; I do love to travel but I get this feeling of being unanchored, uprooted. I am staying in some homely Airbnb but only a minuscule fraction of my stuff is there. The place doesn't have people who define my life and people who I have known for years but don't really talk to — the old man from my favorite coffee shop, the nice guy from Froyo, the old woman who has kept the small stationery shop for years - which we go to just for the sake of checking up on her and saying hi. I do meet people all over the world and I do think about them but home is home and I crave a place for myself. Something constant.”

“You have grown up.” 

Timmy laughs and shoves Armie as they reach his door.

“Sorry, sorry. I know what you mean. In my twenties, I was floating on a cloud. I also traveled from place to place for work and I couldn’t shake off this feeling of impermanence. That whatever I am doing didn’t matter in the long run, that it would just disappear into nothingness when I came to a halt, when I slowed down. I wanted some permanence and stability. And it’s funny that when I got it, when I had a house of my own, a long time partner, a good paying job - I got frustrated. Got bored. I don’t know what to tell you, Tim. I can’t promise that you will start feeling content when you’re stable. When you wake up every morning with all your books, your posters, your clothes, everything, and everyone.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re being pessimistic. No offense.”   
  


Armie smiles, maybe he is being overly negative.

“Maybe.”

“No definitely. And talking about the future, I hope I am going to come to terms with my awkward personality or for the best, won’t even be awkward anymore…”

“You know being awkward is your charm.”

“And you - you’re just effortlessly charming!”

“Oh shut up! C’mon, how long are we going to stay here?” The apartment is darkened. Armie turns on the light and is glad to see the place is one piece. He wasn’t expecting to come back home with Timmy.

Timmy’s words echo in his head all over again - He looks around and finds things that define him, books he’s collected over time, the art pieces Tyler gifted him, his collection of classic movies under the TV, the stash of newspaper on the coffee table, Marc’s typewriter, the small plants he brought with Dakota when he went to the farmer’s market with her. Armie smiles — Timmy was right.

“Do you want water?”

“Yes, Please.”

He goes to the kitchen and gets water for himself and Timmy who’s checking his phone. He feels awfully at home in his apartment.

Armie smells his shirt and grunts, “Do you mind if I shower?” 

“Do you mind if I don’t?”

“No, I don’t.” He laughs, “Make yourself at home.”

Timmy stands up straight and shuffles on his feet, hands clutched at the back, “Where would I sleep?”

And honestly, Armie was avoiding that, thinking they would just fall in place. If it meant a bed like last time, then it was a dream come true and if it wasn’t then his heart could survive the night. 

“Umm, you should sleep in the bed. You’re probably tired of your recent jet lag.”

“What about you?”

Now it’s Armie’s turn to shuffle on his feet. How can he say he wants to sleep in the same bed with Timmy without being a creep. Should he even be thinking about this? Isn’t he taking advantage of the younger man? He takes a deep breath, noticing the tension in the air, the anticipation, the way Timmy’s eyes are downcast with a noticeable flush.

Fuck he looks so innocent. Armie is tainted and he will only be making it worse for Timmy.

“Timmy…”

“We can share. Like last time.” 

Armie waits for something, anything else but Timmy goes back to his phone, playing nonchalant, “Right...I will freshen up and join you."

"Okay"

Armie picks up some clothes from his wardrobe, not checking twice and runs for the bathroom. His heart beating in his chest at the thought of Timmy being in his bed.

He turns on the shower and it doesn't help. The water running down his body, down the drain, doesn't silence his thoughts. Timmy's presence is everywhere now and Armie is scared it will consume him. Is scared he himself will consume the boy in his bed. 

"Fuck! Fuck!" He doesn't raise his voice too much. Doesn't want Timmy to think he's a freak who's thinking about him in the shower. Who's always thinking about him.

After drying himself up, he recalls what Timmy said — Like last time. Last time was fucked up. And it also ended in an innocent kiss which Armie does not want to repeat. He prepares himself to the sight of Timmy snuggled in his bed. The effort it would take to get into bed, to slip inside the blanket, to lay flat and fucking breathe.

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

He opens the door and discovers Timmy cozied up in the bed, with  _ his  _ fucking shirt on. 

"I thought you wouldn't mind." 

There's a small smirk on his face and honestly, if the kid knows and he's torturing Armie, then to hell with everything. 

"I don't." Armie licks his lips and gets into bed – all while the adrenaline rush allows him to forget about the obvious tension. He pushes his head on the pillow and immediately feels exhaustion coloring his bones and muscles. He sighs and looks over to Tim who mirrors his expression, who's lying flat on his side, watching him with a soft expression.

"Sleepy?" 

Promptly Timmy yawns. Looking like a cute little cat.

"Yeah. Still a bit jet-lagged. Though I don't mind staying up." 

"...you look cute."

Timmy sticks out his tongue and giggles. Armie laughs and turns off the light. After a moment, he hears Timmy speak, 

"Did you like  _ Call me by your name _ ?

"you know I did."

"...did you like Elio?"

"Why are you asking, Tim?"

"Sorry I don't wanna be annoying."

Ahh, He had forgotten how uneasy Timmy is with himself. How he thinks that he’s not good enough - it prompts Armie to be honest with him.

"You're not being annoying...I liked Elio. I thought he was sexy."

With bated breath, he waits for Timmy's answer. 

"You don't think I am sexy. You think I am cute."

"Timmy, I…"

Armie doesn't get to finish his statement. Beside him, Timmy sits up and pulls the blanket down. He straddles Armie's hips and puts his hands on the headboard, hovering over Armie. The whole world sinks down to the two of them breathing the same air. Their hearts in sync. Eyes focused on the other even in the dark. Armie feels himself slipping in another dimension, hanging onto this world only through Timmy’s eyes.

“I like you.” Timmy whispers.

Armie feels Timmy’s bonny thighs pressing him down. His small hips perfectly balanced on his lap. Soft, so fucking soft - Armie puts his hands on Timmy’s tiny waist, his thighs and back. Desire pools in his belly. He catches Timmy’s eyes to see if it’s okay but the boy has his eyes closed, mouth wide open in a silent moan. Armie pulls him down and rolls them around so now he’s on top.

“Shit. Armie”

Not able to keep his hands to himself, Armie lets them roam Timmy’s body. 

“I like you too.”

He peppers his neck with kisses, hands in Timmy’s hair. Timmy is not one for being dormant, he moves fast and lines their hips, thrusting up, making them moan. 

“Timmy, not yet.” It's too soon. He doesn’t want desire to ruin everything, doesn’t want his impulsiveness to throw him off the right course. He wants to cherish this, wants to cherish Timmy.

“Why not?” Timmy grabs Armie’s head from his neck and navigates it towards his mouth. For a kiss.

Armie stands his ground, “Slow down.”

“I don’t want to. I’ve been dreaming about this for a long time.” 

“Fuck, you are making this difficult for me.”

“I have heard that before.”

Armie pulls away. Gives Timmy a once over from above and a kiss on his forehead, “Let's talk about this before we eat each other’s faces.”

Timmy seems frustrated. For a moment it looks like he will not fold but then he sighs, rolls his eyes and agrees, “Ok old man.”

Armie laughs and fluffs his pillow, can’t believe where the night has lead him, “Fuck off and good night Timmy!”

Sleep comes much easier now. He is still hyper-aware of Timmy beside him, the amount of space separating them, or the lack of, the cloud of desire above them and the talk about the future. But for now, his mind is colored with possibilities, his body melting into the sheets and his heart steadily slowing down like departing raindrops on a window sill.

  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

Memories fade. Only pieces of them, insignificant as always, remain. Armie is slowly forgetting things of the past - his high school days are a complete blank at this point except for some random moments, his college life too is a blank space between the first year and the last year. Meeting the Chalamets, marrying Liz, being alone all over again - he wants to recall every detail of his life or at least the important ones so he can cherish it, so he can pick out the mistakes and not repeat them but that’s not the case. Years and years have gone by and he can’t hold on to the past because he is forgetting it. Everything is slipping away. 

It makes him anxious. At some point in time, he would have more years behind him than ahead and it will all be a blur. Nothing to hold on to.

The dawn slowly creeps upon him and he hasn’t gotten much sleep last night. His body though, doesn’t agree and wakes him up at six in the morning for his daily jog. Armie stays put because he has a boy in his bed for the first time ever.

He used to fuck around with boys in high school. At that time, it was more rebelling against his mother than exploring his sexuality. But he was afraid, never really pushed too hard, never slept with someone. There was a boy though - Armie doesn’t remember his face, really wishes he could - that came close. Armie worshipped him, dreamt of running away with him - in retrospect he never really liked him that much. But still, he wants to remember his face, wants to recognize him in a crowd. He watches Timmy sleeping and hopes to God it isn’t his repressed sexuality preying on this boy.

If he did remember everything in detail then he wouldn’t go after Timmy. If he remembered the teenage phase, the baby fat, the very much younger Timothee Chalamet. But he doesn’t, not really - The Timmy of the present is slowly filling up all his senses and memories, he can even see him in the past, in his childhood.

The boy in his thoughts wakes up, yawning like crazy. 

“Why are you awake?”

“Why are you?”

“I usually get short bursts of sleep. I will sleep again.” 

Timmy looks really cozy in his bed - snuggled inside the blanket, cheeks pressed to the pillow, curls all over the place, his eyes tiny saucers of magic. 

“My body clock is set for a jog in the morning.”

“Oh god, this relationship is really going to be difficult.”   
  


Armie laughs and pocks Timmy’s nose, “I won’t change for you.”

“Please don’t. I like the way you are.”

_ I like the way you are. _

_ I like the way you are. _

“I used to wake up at six only when I had school. I used to hit the gym for a while, thinking I would bulk up in no time.”

“In school? Really?” Armie tries to recall but knows it's in vain. He didn’t know Timmy all that well.

“Yeah. Had a pretty tight schedule too. Was busy all through high school…”

“Being the best.”

“No! Don’t do that. I wasn’t the best and I didn’t have time for my friends.”

“Well, at least you had friends,” Armie smirks and sinks further into the sheets. Not noticing Timmy’s eyes filled with concern for him.

“Hey, I am sure you had friends.”

“Not really.” He shrugs or tries to in his position. His mind travels to a place in time, some twelve years ago - sweet LA summer, a pool, an unimpressed boy, and an enraged mother. Another summer at his father’s house - left to his devices at the beach, in the sea, in their backyard with the kindest company of his stepmother. No one to call a friend. Absolutely None.

Armie shakes his head, “It wasn’t so bad.”

“Oh?”

“Well...I was lonely but it was alright.”

Lonely. He doesn’t like to talk about those days. Definitely doesn’t want to peek at the struggling actor phase. But the truth is that he was lonely and this is the first time he has admitted it to himself. Or more so, it slipped away from him - a truth buried deep enough, a secret clutched by his heart, past that tightly coiled around his bones and hurt when he tried to pluck it.

“You were lonely.” Timmy’s voice breaks and Armie comes out of his trance. The room is still dark but he can make out Timmy’s eyes and maybe there’s moisture in them, “I don’t know why but I always felt it - Like you were lonely. And I couldn’t help but feel drawn to you. I wanted to take care of you.”

“Timmy, you’re telling me I didn’t get over my teenage years. That I was still lonesome when I met you guys?”

“Sorry if I sound like some idiot. I didn’t mean you needed my help or something - I just...I recognized you. Even as a dumb teenager, there was something in your eyes that I found resonating within myself,” Timmy shifts so he can see Armie better, so  _ Armie _ can see  _ him _ better, “I’ve felt lonely while being the loudest amongst a group of people, I have felt lonely in a room full of people I love. And it is the absolute worst in teenage years - when you don’t know who you are and you are desperately trying to fit. When you can’t fit in and you feel like a fake. Everything feels so fucking fleeting…”

Armie sighs, removes his eye from Timmy, and fixes them at the wall behind, admitting a secret, “I remember those days. Being hung in despair. A ticking time bomb above my head that would announce the death of my childhood. Having no one around me that understood me. Leaping off and worshiping someone who showed a tiny bit of kindness. Feeling so uncomfortable in my skin, so hopeless for the future, and so, so fucking lonely.”

“I am sorry. I wish I was there for you.”

“Me too.” 

There’s silence in the room that feels necessary - it allows Armie to breathe. He can hear Timmy - the sound of his fidgeting, the uncontrollable sighs, the loud breathing. He should say something, anything to placate the boy next to him.

“You’re here now.”

“What?”

“You are here with me. Right now. That’s all I need.”

* * *

The morning is less intense. Armie wakes up late — only when Timmy jumps up on his blanket clad body and demands attention. It's 10 o'clock and Armie wants to bang his head against the wall because for the past few days he's been living like he's some twenty-something guy with no responsibility.

"Define responsibility." Timmy challenges when Armie voices out his thoughts.

"I … uh.."

"Mister, you are not even responsible for a pet so you can stop pretending you have responsibilities."

"Ok ok. But I would like a pet."

"We can get you one today." Timmy jumps out of the bed and hunts around for his phone. Armie's clothes are huge on him and Armie can't help but stare. Wanting nothing but to stay in bed all day and watch Timmy move around.

"Today?"

"Yes! What kind of dogs do you like? Does the apartment allow dogs in? I am searching for a foster home or rescue…"

"Timmy, Timmy, Timmy!" That gets Armie some attention, "I haven't even eaten yet." 

"Oh, I know a place here…"

"I don't wanna eat out…"

"Well, I don't want you to cook today. You do it every day for yourself."

"That's very thoughtful, Timmy. Why don't we order in?"

Timmy agrees, “Okay I want…”

They move to the living room after cleaning up. Armie on the sofa and Timmy walking around – having too much energy and being unable to contain it. While they order, Armie thinks about the night before. The promise of a talk. A talk about Timothée's career, the long-distance aspect of the relationship, their age difference, and most importantly Timmy's family, Marc.

The anxiety builds up slowly but Armie tries to chew it down. Doesn't want to show his hesitation, his uncertainty to a happy Tim. 

While Timmy rambles excitedly about missing New York food, Armie checks his phone discretely, feeling not so much into the conversation. He doesn't even know how to bring it up. How to pop this bubble they're living in to talk about things that matter, things that can potentially inflame their budding connection.

He opens up his WhatsApp and finds it bombarded with messages from Dakota. He tries to read a few of them and grasp the cause of this distress but he can't understand anything. After a few minutes, he notices Timmy isn't speaking, he looks up and instantly feels guilty. 

"Sorry, I just got distracted. One of my friends…"

Timmy cuts him off, "No, it's fine. I know I can be rambly and I bore the shit out of people."

"Timmy, I swear it was nothing like that. I just, it's Dakota and I am pretty sure she's having a meltdown in her mother's home."

"Who's Dakota?"

Now, Timmy fidgets and pulls his necklace down his throat as the result of a nervous habit. He looks down and doesn't make eye contact with Armie. He's thinking, who is this Dakota? And what is her relationship to Armie? Why hasn't he ever mentioned her? Why is she texting him during a breakdown? But those aren't questions he's allowed to ask. Not yet.

"A friend."

There's tension in the air. Timmy waits for Armie to elaborate but there's nothing more being offered by him. Armie shrugs and takes the phone from Tim.

"When is the order arriving?" 

Armie's phone chimes, indicating a new message. Timmy has the urge to pick it up from the table but he doesn't want to be extremely difficult. Come off as the overly jealous type(which he is). Armie picks up the phone and finds a new message from Dakota who is announcing her arrival at his doorstep in t-minus 15 minutes with a simple follow up text — 'you're at home right?'

"Uhh, she's coming over…"

"Who?"

"Dakota…" 

"Right now?"

"Yeah. I am not sure what happened to her. Why she came back early..."

Whatever he may be, Timmy is not an asshole, he feels the concern from Armie's voice and can assess the urgency from her texts, "is she okay?"

"I hope so. She isn't usually this dramatic."

"...I can leave if you want."

"No, no stay. It's fine." Armie seems conflicted about nursing a friend and talking to a nervous, anxious Timmy. He finds the telltale signs of Timmy being jealous and uneasy. He doesn't want to pile things between them that can cause uncertainty but he also can't ignore Dakota.

"I am sure it's nothing. Don't worry." Timmy presses a quick kiss on Armie's knuckles who didn't know he was clutching his fist.

And fuck if Timmy isn't the mature one between the two. Armie doesn't know how to handle this situation, doesn't even know how to console an incoming Dakota Johnson, "What should I do when she comes here? I am so bad at consoling people. I usually have a negative perspective. And I am pessimistic as fuck, remember?"

"Don't say that. Don't be hard on yourself. Maybe just try to listen as much as you can?"

"I can see you being so perfect at it...Cuddling, and hugging. Being so compassionate, and lovely. Encouraging the person with your words."

"I...you don't have to cuddle her."

Armie giggles. Of course, he picked out that part of the conversation and ran with it. Armie is slowly recognizing Timmy's jealous nature, "I won't. Rest assured."

Timmy feels some of his discomfort and jealousy dying down, he presses another kiss to Armie's knuckles and says, "Okay. I'll give you space though. I'll go down to get some coffee. I am sure there's a long line and it will take time…"

The doorbell rings, effectively cutting Timmy off. They both look in the direction and Timmy grabs his wallet, already sitting down to wear his boots. His back is turned away from the door when Armie goes to open it. He hears a smooth, sweet voice badmouthing Armie and saying something along the line of  _ I am a millennial but I don't believe in the bullshit of texting my arrival instead of ringing the bell _ .

Finally, he turns around and watches Armie standing impatiently in front of a very beautiful woman. She has soft brown hair that falls perfectly in her eyes, a cute round face that looks delicate and sweet. He watches as Armie guides her inside with a hand on her bicep. Clutching it really as she tries to contain her emotions. Just like Armie.

She's perfect. Beautiful. Has obviously spent more time with Armie than Timmy has ever and knows him well to trust him to drop everything for her. To come to him unannounced. To be vulnerable with him. To confide in him.

The nausea is slowly creeping up in his throat. The thought that he belonged in here, in Armie's home, in his space, next to him — it feels like a sick dream that came true for only a second before being shattered by reality.

There's no way he stands a chance against this woman.

  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

Dakota stares at her chipped nails - a bright blue colour that she had painted a week ago. After so many days they seem dulled down and melancholic. She’s not one to make impulsive decisions, not one to come crashing down at someone’s door but she was desperate. Her stay at home only made her doubts worse, her past to come back and haunt her. No matter how much she tries, her mother clutches the image of the naive little Dakota in her heart. With families, it’s like you never grow old - you slip back into your old self and it’s like the present never really existed, that the past is a thing of the present. Her mother may have a new artist boyfriend, a so-called open view of the world, a democratic circle of friends but when she speaks to Dakota, she’s all the same. Dakota herself has years and years of growth - A stable and respectable job in academia, published authorship, long healthy relationships and lifestyle. But when she meets her mother - she’s the same awkward, angry teenage girl. Maybe that’s the reason why families fall apart and never see each other - The past self that they think they’ve let go always waits for them at home. A frozen lake in a long-lasting winter that traps your soul for years - a monster of the past confined inside, that greets you on your homecoming.

The tiny little thing in front of her is called Timmy. She’s seen him in photos, in videos that have been shoved upon her. He doesn’t look like a movie star. He’s tall and skinny, looks much younger than his age(21? 22? She doesn’t exactly remember) and is incredibly pale. It doesn’t leave her notice that he is wearing Armie’s clothes. That he has bed-hair and he looks like he just woke up from a very satisfying long night.

She tries not to stare.

Armie clears his throat and brings back the attention to himself. He can notice the two eyeing each other as two domestic cats acquainted for the first time. 

“Timmy, this is Dakota and Dakota, this is Timmy.” He waits for a reaction. Knows that Dakota doesn’t need the introduction but Timmy is in the dark completely. Dakota has a special place in his heart that he can’t describe - She’s his friend, she’s a confidant, she’s Dora the Explorer. She gave him a smutty version of Arabian Nights on his birthday, she guided him towards therapy, she takes him to eccentric bars, farmer market and academic exhibitions … and really, she has allowed his passion to grow and culminate, he’s feelings to come out throw literature.

“Dakota and I met through a professor of World literature. She’s...one of my best friends.”

Timmy looks back at him at the mention of  _ best, _ remembers Armie calling her a  _ friend _ . He can’t process these new developments every now and then. The woman in front of him is very much beautiful, though not exactly Timmy’s type, and it’s just - it’s so fucking difficult for Timmy to imagine Armie not dating anyone, let alone her. He just nods and doesn’t say anything. Same goes for Dakota who shuffles from toe to toe, not knowing what to say when she just jumped on Armie’s door to have a meltdown.

“I should go.” They both announce at the same time.

“No!” Armie drags a chair for Dakota to sit and pulls Timmy away to talk in private.

“Hey! What happened? Why are you acting so distant?”

For some reason, Armie’s questioning infuriates him, like an angry little kitten hissing at an intruder, he says, “You told me she’s a friend. Not  _ best _ friend.” Timmy glares at Armie who looks baffled.

“Are you kidding me? Are we in high school or something?” 

Timmy’s eyes flash in a second, anger bubbling up from inside, “Don’t treat me like a kid!”

Their argument stops after a minute when Dakota thinks she had enough. She didn’t come here to cause a lover’s quarrel. For the first time in a while, she wanted to vent about her fucking family and her miserable single life. If she can’t do that here, if Armie is not available then she will just leave, she shouts amidst their loud hissing, “Please stop you two!”

Armie and Timmy look back to where she’s sitting on the chair, clutching her phone in her hands. Armie doesn’t know how the most important people in his life, don’t like each other. Timmy hasn’t even given her a chance and Dakota has always been wary of Timmy’s age and his status.

“We don’t want you to go D.” He announces despite Timmy rolling his eyes in the background. 

“I don’t want your charity. Thanks.” She stands up and is ready to go when Timmy’s phone rings. He sees it’s him Mom so he steps aside. Armie takes this opportunity to talk to Dakota alone. 

“Hey, Look I am sorry. I don’t know why he’s acting like this, he’s usually so chipper and friendly…”

“Armie, I don’t care why he’s feeling so salty. I am sure he had a great time last night. I don’t...” She tries to steer off the bitterness from her words, it’s not fair to Armie who is still trying, “It’s fine. I should have called before. I don’t know why I assumed you would be alone.”

“Look I don’t get why you two are acting so hostile towards each other when there’s no reason to do so. And you don’t have to be so formal with me. If you need someone to vent to, I am here. Always.”

The words ring in her ears. She’s not someone to get swayed easily, not one to blush from declarations as simple and as pure as Armie’s. But the colour spreads to her cheeks, to her neck - a gorgeous shade of rosy red. She wipes her face and pulls down her face to hide her flaming emotions.

“I am fine.”

There’s a loud noise of distress coming from inside one of the rooms - Armie’s bedroom, she guesses. Not that she’s ever been there. It sounds like Timmy is talking to someone anxiously, his voice a high shrill of agony, his steps making a cry as he rounds the room. Not waiting another moment, Timmy rushes out of the room, with eyes huge and almost teary. He announces, “Mom is alone and she’s hurting.”

* * *

It doesn’t take them much time to rush downtown. Armie runs in his flip flops, carrying his car keys and wallet. Timmy follows him and gets in the car. Dakota rushes behind them, awkwardly watching as they sit in the front seats. Finally, she says, “Well, I will see you later. I hope the doctor will see her soon.”

As she tries to move away, Armie stops her, “Hey! Thanks for the help. We wouldn’t have found a gynaecologist on such short notice. And honestly, Timmy was a mess who made me think Nicole was dying on the carpet bleeding… I think you should come with us. Her daughter is in Paris and I don’t think two idiot boys like us will be any help to her.”

“Well, I don’t know about that…”

Inside the car, Timmy huffs and exhales. He’s already on an emotional overdrive and he desperately needs to see his mother. The moment Nicole called and told him that she was on the ground, bleeding excessively, that she couldn’t get up - he assumed the worse. It’s like his ears were ringing and he couldn’t hear anything besides the alarm bells in his head. He told her that he would come home as soon as possible. He tried to keep his shaking at a minimum but couldn’t, just couldn’t keep his emotions at bay. In his panic, he didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. He repeated whatever his mother told him, to Armie (Dakota as well) and asked Armie to drive him back home. Dakota recognised the signs and indications of menopause. She told him to call Nicole again and fucking confirm (yes she said that). To Timmy’s surprise, she didn’t waste any time and got on her phone - called some friend of a friend(Timmy doesn’t know) and asked for a favour. She explained that the case was serious and the patient was in pain and couldn’t move.

He knows Armie’s right and that they should have someone - a woman by his mother’s side on such short notice but he can’t help but be petulant. He looks at her again from the passenger’s seat and decides for the best - to ask for her help.

Getting out of the car and apologizing feels like the most mature thing to do. When he finally says what he wants, tells her that there was no reason for the hostility, he realises that there was truly none. She watches him closely for a moment, maybe gauging his sincerity. Armie stands on the side and waits patiently.

“Okay. I will go with you two.”

As much as he hates to admit it, he can’t ignore it more - Dakota’s very much likeable. Her smile is genuine, her voice is sweet and she seems like a sorted person - someone who has her shit sorted. With confidence, she opens the door of the car and plops down on the backside, ordering them to hurry the fuck up.

Armie turns on the car and they buckle in. 

* * *

At the entrance of the building, Timmy calls Nicole once again. She’s still in pain and breathing heavily but is feeling much better knowing that Timmy is coming back to her. Although he’s pretty sure that she’s more secure by knowing that Armie is with him and that he will handle the situation much better. 

While in the lift, Armie asks Timmy if he’s feeling okay and he answers, “I am okay. When she called me the first time, I...felt like I was gonna lose her. If I was alone, I would have sat on the floor and sobbed for an hour, calling everyone I know to get a hold of  _ me _ . If you weren’t with me I would not have kept it together...”

“I am sure it’s pretty serious but it’s not life-threatening. And you don’t have to think twice about this - I am not gonna leave you alone. You can  _ always _ count on me.” Armie puts his hand on Timmy’s shoulder and neck, gently pushing a thumb inside the hoodie, to rub the bare skin. His long fingers advance more and more within - blazing the touched skin on fire.

In the small mirrored lift Dakota stands behind them playing with her phone, giving them a false sense of privacy. Timmy watches him from under the curtain of his wet eyelashes. Noticing the height difference - the way his mouth lines perfectly with Armie’s chest, the way he can tuck himself under Armie’s arm, the way he can feel small yet safe in Armie’s presence. The way he always cranes his neck to look at the man, the way he has full access to Armie’s neck and shoulder. Timmy wants to bite down every inch of the skin his eyes devour and claim Armie as his. His and his only.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I was busy for a few weeks as I was studying and trying to get a job and couldn't give time to any of the WIP's. I am happy to be back. Hope you guys are still reading this: )

_Early 2016_

It rained that evening. The ground smelled heavenly and the pitter-patter of the raindrops was Beethoven’s famous Trio. His room on the second floor doesn’t allow him these wonders.

Timmy sat on the ground and waited for his sister to pick him up. The play had gone well and he was tired and satisfied. A small smile etched on his face. He wasn’t one to fuel his ego, the opposite really, he liked to drown in his self-doubts but today, today was different - he was happy. Everything seemed to heighten his moods. Sitting in these formal slacks, in a plain white shirt and a dreadful tie, Timmy looked up at the sky and was mesmerized by the falling rain. He strayed away from the empty entrance and was graced by the cool droplets on his skin.

He couldn’t wait to pester Pauline with every detail. Couldn’t wait to get home. He looked at his phone again and wondered why she was so late. He dropped her a message asking where she was. He saw her typing but before she could write anything, a car stopped a few feet in front of him – carefully parked to avoid splashing the little amount of water collected at his feet. Timmy looked up and recognized the car and the man inside. Armie.

In a frenzy, while he covered his head with his enormous hand, Armie got out of the car and explained how Pauline got caught up in a fight against injustice and was now protesting at some professor's office. Unable to pick up her baby brother who for once did not want to take the subway to travel back home. Dripping in the rain Armie opened the door hesitantly for the boy in front of him. Timmy watched him silently as he appeared nervous about facing Timmy. That seemed stupid for a moment but then he remembered being bitchy to Armie. All hot and cold - sometimes pleasant, sometimes sombre, sometimes turbulent. So he decided at once to grow up, nodded to himself, and smiled. The kindest smile he could manage.

They boarded Armie’s modest car and the sounds dulled down just as he closed the door - another door leaving them alone and breathless, space and time closing in on them. Timmy thought to himself - Should he open the window? To let the outside world be in on their conversations? Any sort of safety net so he can stop feeling so exposed to the man.

“So how did the play go?”

Well, how did it go? He didn’t quite remember. Not when Armie sat so close, when the rain showered him wet and Timmy could tell his distinct smell - an earthy sort of smell, with something sweet hidden underneath.

“Well, the usual.”

“Oh. uh...good! Sorry, Pauline couldn’t make it …”

“Yeah, you’ve explained.”

“Okay sorry.”

Timmy turned his face in the opposite direction and bit his lips. He couldn’t understand why he behaved the way he did when he was around Armie. He wanted to share the details of his last day - the cast praising his acting, people coming up to him saying they were his fans and giving him gifts. The shirt and slacks he had received from the set as a souvenir which he decided to wear on his way home - wanting to stay the prodigal son as long as he could. Deciding to take a ride with Pauline instead of taking a subway to preserve his outfit.

“Umm, it's fine. Thanks for picking me up.”

Once turned back, Timmy noticed Armie’s face more closely - the way it lighted up from the street lamps in the clouded evening, the way his eyelashes seemed dark and heavy with water, his perfectly shaved face which he didn’t usually keep, and his red lips that look oh so inviting.

He has a girlfriend. He reminded himself. A girlfriend he’s thinking of proposing, he corrected.

In the end, the ride was not long enough for him - he had been so focused on the play and his upcoming roles that he had put a hold on his desires. With Armie so close next to him, all alone, he felt all the repressed feelings bubble up. They did start talking, moving onto safer topics and everyday life but as the rain picked up and the car slowed down, their conversation moved to dangerous territory.

“I am playing a horny teenager, lusting after a graduate student who is acting as an assistant to my father”

Armie turned sharply to look at him. His eyes questioning, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. Timmy did not think it through that moment, he was strangely attracted to Armie and he could finally understand his frustrations about the man all his life. In the small space of Armie’s car, the rain outside, and the overwhelming tension inside, he let himself loose. He did not give a fuck about anything.

“That’s a way of putting it - your next role.”

“Yeah. It's a summer romance in the 80s. With a much older man...It’s going to be very sensual.” He had let his tongue roll on the word sensual. Playing it out, flirting precociously.

“Okay.” Armie had shut it down lightning fast. Leant back in his seat, stretched his legs, tried to let out the tension he felt in the air. He was sure Timmy was joking, giving him a hard time for picking him up as opposed to his sister.

As they reached the Chalamet’s building, Armie parked his car in the parking lot. With one hand on the wheel and one hand on the back of Timothee’s seat, he was aware of Timmy’s eyes on him as he reverse-parked. The close proximity and the loud silence were playing mind games with him. He felt uncomfortable in his skin. Could not understand the sizzle in the air. He did not want to be seen, not like this - his whole body drenched in rain, the water dripping down his chest, every once in a while falling from his wet hair. He could smell himself and smell Timmy. Timmy who had rushed to the car to save his outfit but had marginally succeeded – his shirt was almost sheer, his hair wet and dark against his pale skin. Every breath, every sigh was so loud and he felt like he could not breathe.

Everything, the tension, the flirting, Timmy's attention on him, was over when they reached home and were greeted by an apologetic Pauline who hurried to her brother's side.

* * *

_September 2018_

They find Nicole sprawled on the sofa, groaning in pain. Dakota rushes to her side as does Timmy. On Dakota’s instruction, Armie goes and finds a heating pad in the apartment(it doesn't leave his notice how quickly he was able to find it. The way he's so accustomed to the family and the house) and boils water on the stove. He watches from the kitchen as Timmy and Dakota sit her upright and ask her about the medications she’s taking. Timmy hugs his mother tightly and Nicole starts crying in his arms, Dakota takes this moment to detach herself from the pair. She goes to Armie.

“Menopause is seriously the worst thing ever. Sadly, she was going through it alone. And I get it, I probably wouldn’t have shared the pain I was feeling with my son.”

“I worry about her sometimes. Mark isn’t here for the better part of the year, Pauline is away too and now Timmy is also travelling all over the world.”

“Then why don’t you visit her sometimes?” She almost touches the water container to check its temperature. Armie pushes her hand away gently.

“I...I don’t know. Isn’t it weird? I am not her son.”

Dakota looks him up and down, “You sure were playing her son when it was convenient for you. Now that you’re wrapped up in your own issues, you don’t want to spend time with them.”

The water sizzles over the heat. Bubbles simmering on the surface. Hot but not good enough to pour it over into the pad.

“Dakota!” he whispers. Oddly enough he knows she’s right.

“Armie, I don’t know what to tell you. You need to handle your relationships better.”

“If you need to know why I’ve been avoiding them then you already know the answer.”

“Timmy?”

“Yes. I don’t know how to act around them knowing I have the hots for their son who’s a decade younger than me.”

“I don’t really get it. I hang out with Ashley all the time.”

“Who is Ashley?” By now, the water has boiled down so Armie turns off the stove and carefully pours it into the heating pad.

“David’s daughter. My gyno, the one I called for Nicole.”

Thank God, he had finished pouring the water into the pad, or else he would be going to the local hospital for burns, “What the fuck?!”

To his surprise she just shrugs, “We just happened to meet while I was at his house for a party. She seemed nice enough and I was really curious about her father. She roped me into a meeting for her newly opened clinic and I couldn’t say no when I talked to her for so long.”

“Dakota you’re unbelievable.” Armie shakes his head and focuses on the issue on hand. He takes the heating pad to Nicole and carefully removes Timmy from her. He places it on her lap which earns him a deep sigh from Nicole. It’s been a while since he has seen her face and he’s heartbroken to see tear-streaked cheeks, sullen eyes, and a pained smile.

“Thank you, dear.”

He wants to apologize to her but it doesn’t feel like the right time. He wants to ask her if she’s in pain but stops himself because of course, she is. Armie feels inadequate as a man to support her, to understand what she’s going through.

After briefly introducing Dakota and Nicole, they are on their way to the gyno’s office. Throughout the journey, Nicole considers Dakota and she seems suspicious. It’s a reaction Armie had not imagined. People are usually charmed by her - her intelligence, her awkwardness, and the soft chime of her voice. As they reach the clinic, he discards this line of thought, more worried about Nicole than anything else.

* * *

“You think she’s going to be okay?”

Timmy maintains his distance from Armie. It’s unbearable now when they have confessed their feelings - also a little hurtful. But he reminds himself that's exactly what he wants too. They would have to hide their relationship from Timmy's family for the time being. Or however long he can allow it.

"She'll be okay. Breath." Armie moved a little closer and pats his back. Keeps his hand there. He thinks it shouldn't look any different from how they acted before but honestly, he doesn't remember.

"I can't ever imagine being all alone in pain. You know I worry about this all the time. With all of us living apart, I am scared one day something will happen …"

"Timmy, it's never good to think about the future. As a family, you guys are doing the best you could."

"It must be lonely for mom. I've been so absent even when I am here." Timmy sobs audibly, tears fall from his eyes which he tries to wipe through his shirt sleeves. He looks like a kid.

Armie grabs him closer and pulls him to his chest. Effectively hiding him away from the world. People around the clinic — particularly women — stare at them. He looks around and sees the crowd, a mix of young and old. Two pregnant women sitting beside each other and holding their bellies, a young teenager with acne all over her face tapping away on her phone, her mom sitting beside her flipping magazines, a pair of women holding each other - occasionally placing light kisses on their joined hands and a woman close to Nicole's age who shockingly looks like his mother. He has to double-take to make sure it isn't her.

"They're talking about surgery in the worst case scenario. Will probably remove the uterus." Dakota comes out from Ashley's office while Nicole talks to the doctor alone. Timmy withdraws himself from the hug.

"Uterus?! Isn't that bad? How can they remove it?"

"It's more common than one would think. Sometimes it's for the best to remove a uterus. Umm, anyhow, I am not the best person to talk to you about this. You should probably talk to your mom and the gyno. I am sure your sister will help you out as well."

"Okay... Thanks for coming with us."

"It's no problem...I should leave now. You should be alone with your family...and umm...friends."

They're more mature than Armie could ever be. They're trying their best to work out their issues and fit in in their small worlds which right now centers around Armie. He decides to make an effort too, "We will you see later okay. Maybe we can have a dinner party or something."

"You will cook a steak? I don't know I am not a fan, Armie." She shakes her head disapprovingly.

Timmy laughs and nods, "It's his go-to dish at every party. I remember mom being tired of seeing steak and forcing Armie to make cocktails."

"And I bet he aced on that as well."

"You know he did. He's annoying." Timmy rolls his eyes fondly and honestly Armie is so glad to have his usual self back. Leave it to Dakota to pull everyone out of their miserable assess.

Soon Nicole is let out and they decide to go back home. Timmy has already informed Pauline and Marc about Nicole and assured them that she's okay. Though they're making plans to soon come home.

Armie is only slightly jealous of their relationship. He doesn't have a family who will fly from the other side of the world to help him out. His father is busy with his new wife and he hardly picks up Armie's calls. Moreover, Armie does not have a good relationship with his mother. In her eyes, Armie can not stop fucking up, is not religious enough, was never good enough to be family. They severed all ties when he decided to be on his own. Only Liz could somehow mend broken bonds but that too slashed when she left. Now he hasn't seen his mother since last year's Thanksgiving and hasn't talked to her since her jabs about the divorce and his inability to hold on to something good.

Holidays this year will definitely be lonely now that he doesn't have a family, not even an extended family from Liz.

They step outside and it's raining lightly. Armie catches Timmy pulling his sleeves down to bear the sudden chill in the air, he fights the urge to pull him closer. He helps Nicole in the car and holds the door for Timmy who catches his eyes and smiles fondly. Nicole watches their exchange silently from the back seat. She is exhausted from the pain and the tears so she's happy to be quiet for once.

The rain doesn't cease. Armie turns on the wipers to clear the water droplets on the glass, settles his hand on the back of Timmy's seat to reverse the car. Unexpectedly, he feels a sense of deja vu – a day of the past creeping up on him. He turns his head to find Timmy staring at him intently. His lower lip jutted out, his head leaning against the seat.

Armie smiles and mouths, "Behave."


End file.
